


Precipice

by Peanut_Butter_Wizard



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bill Cipher Being Bill Cipher, Canon Divergence - The Stanchurian Candidate, Eventual Fluff, Everyone Needs A Hug, Family Bonding, Gen, Grunkle Ford Is A Jerk, Hurt Grunkle Stan, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Grunkle Ford, Sad Dipper Pines, Sad Mabel Pines, Self-Esteem Issues, The Mindscape, a little bit, but he deserved it at the time, especially stan and ford, mental manipulation, sad soos, wendy gets mad at ford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-01 12:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13998213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanut_Butter_Wizard/pseuds/Peanut_Butter_Wizard
Summary: Stan didn't hesitate to throw the election to save Dipper and Mabel.  The Pines thought it was over when he pulled the kids to safety, but Gideon had other plans.  Now, Ford has to step up, take care of his niece and nephew, and deal with his own feelings about his brother, and what will happen to them all now.  Meanwhile, Bill isn't letting an opportunity like this go by without taking advantage of it.





	1. Took a Leap

The scratchy fibre of the rope bit into Stan’s hand as he grabbed it, nearly slipping through his grip, and the weight at the end nearly sent him toppling down to where the ground waited, hard and unforgiving and dizzyingly far away. But, to his relief, he stayed grounded and stable, and as safe as someone as high up as he was currently could be.

More importantly, the kids weren’t falling to their deaths anymore.

“Grunkle Stan!” Twin cries, filled with relief and gratitude, rang in his ears. _Safe, they’re safe, you did it you got there in time you didn’t screw things up for once._

“We’re sorry Stan.” Mabel called out, “We should have supported you, win or lose.” Every syllable pounded the message into Stan’s head, _safe safe, I’ve got them_

“Probably lose” Dipper added onto his sister’s statement, and even the twinge of annoyance Stan felt at his words couldn’t hold a candle to Stan’s relief.

“I can still drop you ya know.” The gruff response popped out even as he grabbed the chairs that the kids were tied to, felt the soft wool from Mabel’s campaign sweater rub against his hand. Even with the added weight of the chairs, Stan can easily lift his niece and nephew, and as soon as his grip is solid, he wraps his arms around them, chairs and all and _they’re safe, my family is sa-_

“Well then why don’t you Stanford Pines?” The sickeningly adorable voice, though slightly warped by the speakers it flowed through, was unmistakable. Stan whirled, still on his knees, and turned to see, not Gideon, but Bud Gleeful. At least, sort of. Buds mouth was slack, his head lolling to the side, and his eye’s were distant, glazed, and out of the bright sun Stan could see they had a faint, unsettling glow. “In fact,” Gideon’s voice spoke up again, drawing Stan’s attention to the screen that was attached to Bud’s unholy abomination of an outfit, where the little troll was being broadcasted live from the Gravity Falls Penitentiary “why don’t you join them old man?” Venom dripped off of the young boys Southern accent as his father’s arms extended.

Stan hadn’t realized how close he was to the edge until barely a nudge overbalanced him. Wind and light enveloped him, lifting his suit and fez in a whirl around him. Screams filled his ears, one shrill and whistling through braces, one that cracked every few seconds, and one that was so rough and hoarse it could only be his own. His arms tightened, his embrace turning into a crushing grip, curling his body around the young twins in a silent promise.

_Don’t worry_

_I’ve got you_

_You’re safe_

_I’ll protect you_

_I can do this right_

_It’s the only thing I’m good fo-_

The sickening crunch that echos across the crowds, as well as the twin keening wails that soon follow it, are unheard by the man who lies broken on the ground, dead to the world.


	2. Stay here long

Stanford Pines was used to losing track of time when he was engaged in something.  So when he looked up from the book he was re-reading for the first time in thirty years and checked the time, he wasn’t that surprised to see that he had missed the debate that was being televised.  And yet, he was saddened by it.  He had actually been looking forward to seeing how Stanley did in the election.  From what Stanford had heard, it seemed like Stan was doing very well in the polls, thanks to Dippers quick thinking and Stanford’s own invention.  Ford was glad that Dipper had come to him for advice, and he was glad that Dipper had been able to convince Stan to let him help.

 

Ford stood and stretched, muscles tight from being in the same position for so many hours.  Checking the time again, Ford was surprised that Stan and the kids weren’t back yet.  The alarms he had wired the house with years ago were still intact, (they were one of the first things Ford checked up on when he got back), and should alert him when any of the doors or windows are opened-ah, there it went.  A flashing light and an audible ding from one of the consoles lining the room told him that someone had just used the front door.

 

Ford ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make it look like he hadn’t spent the whole day his nose in a book; Stanley would never let him hear the end of it.  As the elevator rose, Ford wondered how his brother had done.  Although, he probably wouldn’t hear from Stanley if the election went well or not.  But he could count on Dipper to tell him.  Mabel would probably be dying to give him a play-by-play breakdown of the entire debate, albeit one probably embellished with more glitter and puppies than were actually there.  Ford chuckled softly to himself as he envisioned his niece and nephews charm and enthusiasm.

 

 They were good kids, and Ford was grateful to have been able to meet them.  And he was hoping to be able to have them visit him again next summer, after he had dealt with the rift and gotten rid of all of the Mystery Shack garbage cluttering up his house and settled out all of the legal matters of Stanley living under his-had Stan used his name for the election?

 

The ding of the elevator reaching the top floor drowned out Ford’s sigh.  He would really have a lot of trouble getting his life back from Stan, wouldn’t he?  Ah well, it’s not like that was anything new.  Ford would just have to do what he did and Backupsmore, what he did for thirty years in the portal: knuckle down, work harder, and find that solution he needed.

 

Ford may have been surprised at his own inability to keep track of time, but he was very surprised at the silence that greeted him as he opened the door behind the vending machine.  No place could ever be quiet if his family was around, and Ford knew for a fact that the first thing he should have heard after coming up from the basement was Stanley either crowing about his victory or commiserating his defeat, just like he would after a boxing match when they were kids.

 

Instead, all Ford heard was silence.

 

Wait, not silence.  Ford could hear footsteps, quick and light in the upstairs portion of the home.  Footsteps that were now coming down the stairs.

 

Ford’s hand drifted towards the blaster mounted at his hip, but kept from pulling it out when he saw who the intruder was.  Red hair trailing and arms laden with his family’s positions, Stanley’s teenage cashier, Dan Corduroy’s daughter, brushed past Ford on her way to the kitchen.  What was her name?

 

Ford followed her into the kitchen, “Excuse me.”  He said, put out and confused by the girls behavior-was she stealing from his family?- “May I ask what you’re doing?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, Stan two, good.”  She said, not seeming to have noticed him before  “I thought I was going to have to pull the vending machine out of the wall.  Here, hold these.”  She dumped the items she was holding onto Ford, and he scrambled to keep from dropping any of them.  For some reason, the Corduroy girl had grabbed a change of clothes for both Dipper and Mabel, an odd-looking support pillow, a mystery novel with a chewed-on pen acting as a bookmark, a plush unicorn that lit up and begged Ford to buy it’s accessories when he accidentally squeezed it, several colorful balls of yarn and knitting needles in three different sizes, and several books on neurology Ford was positive he had never seen in the house before.

 

“What on earth-“ Ford started to say

 

“M’kay dude, since you’re still here, I’m guessing that you didn’t watch the debate at all did you?”  Dan’s daughter said as she pulled large amounts of packaged junk food out of the pantry.  As Ford watched, she seemed to make package after package of cookies, candy, and chips vanish in front of him, tucking them away under her hat or up her sleeve or who knows where.

 

“Well I- no- you see- ugh, what is going on?”  Ford fumbled as some of the items in his grip shifted and started to slip.

 

The girl walked towards the front door.  “Long story short, your family is in the hospital dude.”  She said it with such casual ease that it seemed more like a statement about the weather or a sports team.  Fords heart skipped a beat.  “I got sent here to grab some stuff, drag you out of the basement, and bring you over.  Now come on, it’s a half an hour to get to the nearest hospital.”  The door rings as she pushes her way out.

 

Ford stands frozen for a moment before charging after her “Hey!”  He shoulders the door open, making the screen door rattle and the glass quake in its frames.  “What do you mean ‘they’re in the hospital?  What happened?”

 

“There was an accident at the election.  I don’t know all of the details, though, I was just sent to get this stuff.”  Dan’s daughter pulls open the driver’s side door to a strange blue car, leaving Ford to clamber into the passenger seat, thankfully without dropping anything.

 

A pop and the smell of ozone draws his attention to the Corduroy girl, who had a bundle of wires in each fist.  Muttering under her breath, she touched them together, and the car roared to life.

 

As the car roughly pulled away from the Myster-ahem, Ford’s home, his mind spirals with questions.  In a slight daze, he voices the first one that he can

 

"Who’s car is this?“ No, that’s not what he wants to know.

 

"Does it matter?”  The girl huffs

 

"No.“  Ford tries to voice his actual question, ask what he really wants to know, but the words die in his throat, choked by a fear he hadn’t felt in a while. Ford desperately wants to ask about his family, are the kids okay what happened who hurt them was Bill behind this how could Stanley let them get hurt, but actually saying the words felt sealing their fate.  Asking would mean finding out just how badly they were hurt, would mean solidifying this twisted nightmare into a reality. So he sat in silence as the girl drove them to the hospital with little concern for the rules of the road.

 

A little over halfway to the hospital, a buzz comes from the girls pocket, startling Ford into squeezing the unicorn again.  He gives the small plush a distasteful glare, before looking up at the Corduroy girl.  She was speaking into one of those cellular phone devices that Mabel had been trying to explain to him the other day.  Fords heart clenched as he thought of his niece, her wide-eyed excitement and incredibly bright smile, and a million things that could have happened to her and her brother racing through his head before the Corduroy girl snapped her cellular device closed and spoke.

 

“That was Soos.  The doctor said that Dipper and Mabel will be fine, just some scrapes and bruises, a sprained wrist and a dislocated shoulder between them.”  Her voice was tight as she spoke.  

 

Ford lets out an audible sigh, most of his worry disappointed.  He wouldn’t be satisfied until he was with his niece and nephew and could see their injuries for himself, but for now that would suffice.  A spark of anger flared in place of the worry. _How,_ Ford wondered _did this happen? After all that talk about wanting to keep the kids out of danger, about me being dangerous, could he let them get hurt?  “How could Stanley have let this happen?”_

 

“Dude, are you flippin’ kidding me?”  The Corduroy girl snapped at Ford.  He snapped his mouth shut with an audible ‘click’ as he looks over at her.  He didn’t realize he had said that last part out loud.  “Stan didn’t just ‘let this happen’, he would never let anything happen to Dipper and Mabel!”  The car skidded as they took a corner that they almost missed going faster than they should have been.

 

Ford was taken aback by the teens outburst and driving, but recovered quickly, cheeks heating up at being reprimanded by a girl who couldn’t be older than sixteen.  “Well, he seemed to let quite a lot happen to them over this summer from what the children have told me.  Hordes of the undead, gargantuan robots, dinosaurs for crying out loud!”  Ford waved a hand through the air as he spoke, counting the dangers as he listed them “He told me not to endanger the kids, and yet how many times have Dipper and Mabel, and the entire town even been out in jeopardy because of Stanley’s reckless and selfish actions? And on top of all that-”  The car jerked to a stop, and Ford was thrown against the seat belt.  The strap bit into his chest and stomach, cutting him off mid rant.  Despite the sudden pain, Ford was actually grateful for the interruption; he had almost told this rash teenager about the Rift.  He mentally reprimanded himself for letting his anger get the best of him. _It isn’t her fault that this happened.  This girl must have some loyalty to Stanley, even if it doesn’t extend beyond him signing her paychecks.  She isn’t the one you’re angry with.  Save it for Stanley._

 

“Selfish?”  The venom dripping from her tone gave Ford pause.  When he looked over at the girl he gripped the items in his lap tighter to keep from reaching for his blaster. _I’ve been cornered by bounty hunters that look less terrifying than her._  Her fists clenched, and she opened her mouth as if she wanted to say more, but all that came out was a disgusted snarl.  In one fluid movement, she scooped the items out of Ford’s grasp.  With a curt “We’re here.”  She kicked the car door opened and slammed it shut behind her.  The force of it made the car rock, and Ford was surprised none of the windows shattered.

 

He sat in shock for a moment, letting his fight-or-flight response dissipate as he processed what just happened.   _What did I say?_  Ford wondered, before realizing he was in a car that was most likely stolen and that the thief had left him in it.  Ford quickly headed to the hospital, only thinking to lock the car as he stepped into the lobby.

 

He made it maybe ten feet into the hospital before nearly being knocked to the ground as two small forces crashed into him.  Slim arms wrapped around his waist, and he looked down into two sets of watery brown eyes.

 

“Grunkle Ford!”

 

“Great-uncle Ford!”

 

Two shaky voices filled his ears, and he dropped to his knees to see his niblings better.  “Kids!”  Dippers wrist was in a brace and his hat was missing.  Mabel’s campaign sweater was torn and tied around her waist, and  one of her arms was in a sling.  They were battered and bruised, but they were whole.  They were safe.  Ford wrapped his arms around them pulling them close and minding their injuries, pure relief and joy swelling in him.  Mabel sat on his knee and buried her face in his chest.  Dipper wrapped his arms around Ford, desperately clinging to his clothes like a burr.  Hot anger flared again, curdling the cool satisfaction of having his niblings safe and in his arms. _Stanley how could you let these two get hurt?_

 

“I am so relieved you two are alright.”  Ford said into their hair.  He pulled back out of the hug a little so he could look them in the eyes.  They had both been crying, faces stained with tear trails and smudged dirt, and tears still leaked from Mabels eyes. And Stanley was nowhere to be found.  How dare he leave them alone in this state!  “Where’s Stanley?”  Ford tried his best to keep the bite out of his voice.  He hoped he had the self control to take Stanley somewhere the children couldn’t see before giving Stanley the berating he deserved.  

 

Ford wasn’t expecting the responses from the children that he got.

 

Mabel let out a pitiable wail, throwing herself back into Ford’s arms, fresh tears streaming down her face and onto Fords sweater.  Dippers lip trembled as he tried to speak, only to follow his sister’s lead and bury himself back in Ford’s arms.  

 

The feeling of dread stirred in Ford’s gut again, this time sharper and harder.  He looked up from the children to the man-child handyman -Zeus?- and the cashier girl who had been standing by and watching the three Pines’s.  Zeus’s shoulders trembled, and Ford saw that his eyes were just as red as the children’s, and the Corduroy girl was standing ramrod straight, fists clenched at her sides.  “Where is Stanley?”  Ford said it with more urgency, panic filling his voice, eyes darting back and forth between the four people around him, wordlessly pleading for an answer.

 

The Corduroy girl turns, snatching something off of a small table behind her before turning back to face Ford.  There’s a look in her eyes that Ford can’t place - sorrow or pity with something he can’t place woven through it- and she slowly held out a pair of square glasses with thick black lenses.  Ford almost thought that they were Stan’s glasses, but then he saw that one lenses had a spiderweb crack marring it.  They couldn’t be Stan’s glasses.

Ford snatches the glasses that most definitely are _not_ Stanley’s out of the girls hand, catching his scattered reflection in the carefully polished lenses.

 

“Dr Pines,” The Corduroy girl spoke, her voice hitched slightly.  When Ford looked back up at her, he saw unshed tears hanging in her eyes, small cracks in her collected facade.  Her voice is quiet, as if she doesn’t want to hear what she’s saying “Stan is still in surgery.”


	3. Every Whim

Ford hated waiting.  Waiting meant doing nothing while someone else was working.  Waiting meant being fundamentally useless.  Ford despised the feeling of being useless.  But there was nothing he could do but wait.  So he paced a hole into the waiting room carpet, thinking of everything and nothing.  His gaze drifted around the room, seeing everyone and everything in it, but only half processing it. A thick numb fog clouded his thoughts, made every limb heavy even as he paced a hole into the visitor room carpet.  
    
  The clock on the wall ticked in time with his steps.

Dipper and Mabel had fallen asleep curled up together in the same chair in the waiting room, changed into the clean clothes the Corduroy girl had brought for them. Mabel had her head on Dipper’s shoulder, and was using her unicorn plush as a cushion. Dipper was sleeping comfortably sitting up, his hat pulled over his face, and a large half finished sweater hanging off of Mabel’s knitting needles was blanketed over both of them. Ford was amazed at her ability to knit with her arm in a sling. And the speed that she was able to knit intrigued Ford. It was almost enough to make him feel something other than shock.  Almost, but not quite.

Was it just him, or was the clock getting louder?

  
  
Ford stepped around the red headed teen- Wendy apparently- who was sitting cross-legged on the floor. She had procured an axe from somewhere, and was using it to create a growing army of intricate origami figures out of magazine pages.  Some of the figures were normal looking, horses and tigers and the like.  Some were more fantastical; Ford noticed several dragons, at least two Manotaurs, and what looked like a Gremloblin placed throughout the mass of origami.  He didn’t really care.  
  
And the clock got louder.  
  
The handyman, whom Ford had realized was actually named- Soos? Maybe?- had busied himself by dismantling several tables and chairs and putting them all together into some kind of furniture chimera.  Ford barely glanced at it.  
  
The constant tick-tock of the clock was deafening now.  
  
Ford stopped and glared at the offending time-piece.  It was as generic and bland as the room they were in.  Simple and round, it glinted in the florescent lights, taunting Ford with each second that passed.  Ford’s hand drifted towards his blaster, the tiniest spark of hate guiding his actions.   
  
“Stanford Pines family?”  A nurse walked into the waiting room, reading something off of a clipboard.  He almost dropped the clipboard when he looked up and saw the mess in the waiting room.    
  
“Yes, that’s us.”  Ford stalked over to the frazzled nurse.   
  
The man dragged his gaze away from Soos and Wendys creations and met Ford’s eyes.  The nurse gave him a quick once over, before extending a hand.  “Am I correct in assuming that you’re Stanford’s twin?”   
  
Ford stopped short, his mind windmilling.  What was this nurse- oh right.  Stanley was still using Stanford’s name.  This was…problematic to say the least.   _What do I say?  Stanley is the one who’s good at lying!_  A small swell of annoyance rose again inside Ford, but it was quickly crushed down by panic and a touch of guilt.   _Allright Stanford.  Think-no wait, don’t think!  Just do what Stan would do!_ “Yes! I am S-stanley.  Stanley Pines, the t-twin brother of Stanford Pines.  Your patient.  I’m his twin.  Stanley.”  Ford squared his shoulders and tucked his hands behind his back.  He sent a silent prayer up to each and every deity he had ever heard of in the multiverse that the nurse didn’t call Ford’s bluff.  
  
The nurse raised an eyebrow, but said nothing about Ford’s behavior.  “Well, if you would please follow me, your brother is out of surgery.”  
  
Fords heart jumped a little.  “Yes, of course.”  He turns and goes to the twins.  Ford placed his hand on Dipper’s shoulder, the six-fingered appendage completely engulfing the boy’s shoulder.  “Dipper, Mabel, it’s time to go see Stan.”  His voice is gentle as he softly jostled the two young twins awake.    
  
Mabel was the first to respond.  Her uninjured hand rubbed at her face as she blearily looked up at Ford.  Her words were slurred with drowsiness, and her gaze was unfocused as she spoke.  “S-stan? Whasgoinon?”   
  
Ford paused, his heart clenching in his chest as the twins shifted in their seat, waking fully under the bright lights of the waiting room.  Ford’s throat constricted, and his eyes started to prickle for the first time in…he didn’t even know how many years.  Crying had only gotten Ford into trouble in his life, had only gotten him berated by his father for being weak.  Crying had only embarrassed Ford at college, when a particularly rough week of all-nighters had left him a sobbing wreck for Fiddleford to find, hidden in a back corner of the schools pitiable library.  Crying showed weakness, marked him as an easy target, and that was something he couldn’t afford when he was traveling the multiverse.  Ford honestly thought that he had completely lost the ability to cry by now, and yet, he felt it, the pressure building in his head, the difficulty breathing, and he didn’t even know why!    
  
And besides all that, he couldn’t break down, not now, not when he needed to be strong for the kids.  They were only twelve, they shouldn’t have to deal with something as painful as this-this fiasco that they had gone through!  So Ford swallowed his tears, forcing them down and back.  He couldn’t have done anything to stop this from happening, but he could support his family now.   
  
“No Mabel dear, it’s Ford.”  He says, mostly keeping the tremor out of his voice.  
  
“Oh.  Sorry Grunkle Ford, I thought you were-well, y’know, you two look alot alike.”  Mabel and Dipper were both wide awake now.  A red mark ran across Mabels cheek from where her unicorn plush was pushing into it.  Dipper wiped a line of drool from the corner of his mouth that Ford pretended not to notice.  
  
“It’s fine.  I’m sorry to wake you, but Stan is out of surgery.  We can go and see him now.”  Ford hadn’t even finished what he was saying before his niblings had sprang to their feet, drowsiness forgotten.  Dipper swept the book and the unicorn toy up, and Mabel stuffed her knitting project into her sling.  Ford felt like he should tell her not to do that, but as someone who had used a broken arm in a sling to smuggle contraband items through interdimensional customs on multiple occasions and suffered no ill effects, he figured that some yarn and small aluminum tubes wouldn’t aggravate Mabels injury further.  
  
“Well, what are we standing around here for, Great-Uncle Ford? Lets go!”  Dipper grabbed Mabels uninjured hand with his good one and lead the way over to the nurse.  Ford realized with a start that Stan’s employees were already standing next to the man.  The only one they were waiting on was Ford.  He stood and joined the group.  
  
As they walked through the halls of the hospital, Ford stayed to the back of the group.  Wendy and Soos walked side by side directly ahead of him.  Soos was idly fiddling with one of his tools, and Wendy had that stack of books under her arm.  Ford was still wondering where she had gotten them, and why she even had them in the first place.  But then, Ford had never understood teenagers when he was a teenager himself.  He supposed it would be a challenge to understand a teenage girl for an old man like him.  Dipper and Mabel were walking instep with the nurse, the two young twins practically glued to each other as Mabel peppered the nurse with question after question.  
  
“How’s Grunkle Stan?  Is he in pain?  Where did he get hurt?  He isn’t hurt too bad, right?  Did he ask about us?  Oh, he must be so worried about us!  Ohmygoshyoutoldhimwewereokayrightyoudidbecauseifyoudidntthenhesprobablyfreakingoutishefreakingou-”  Mabel was cut off as the nurse came to a stop and she bumped into the mans leg.    
  
Ford looked at where they were in the hospital-and felt his heart stop cold in its chest.  
  
They were in the intensive care unit.  
  
Oh no.  
  
“Now, this is all going to look a little strange, and you might be worried,”  the nurse said, grabbing the doorknob to the room they had stopped in front of  “I assure you, Stan is stable, but-”  the nurse hesitated  
  
“But what?”  Ford said, an edge in his voice, making it almost a growl.  
  
The nurse took a breath “But I regret to inform you that due to the injuries he sustained, Stanford is currently comatose.”  Then he pushed the door open, leading the way into Stan’s hospital room.  Dipper and Mabel barely hesitated before following the nurse, and Stan’s employees were hot on their heels.  But as Ford stepped into the room, the sight his eyes fell upon made him freeze.  
  
A man was lying in the bed, wearing a thin hospital gown.  The sheets were pulled up to his armpits, but his arms were lying on top of the sheets, giving Ford a perfect view of the IV lines running into his arms.  The mans right arm was in a cast from shoulder to wrist, his right hip was in a brace, and bandages were wrapped tightly around his head. Bruises were spread across the right side of his face and neck, but those were obscured by the large amounts of bandages.  And was that-  
  
“What’s in Grunkle Stan’s mouth?”  Mabel was the quietest Ford had ever heard her.  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out but a rasping wheeze that was so quiet Ford didn’t know if he had imagined it or not.  The nurse turned toward the younger twins, a practiced look of care and pity on his face, but surprisingly Wendy beat him to it.  
  
“It’s called a breathing tube.”  The red head knelt in front of Ford’s niblings, looking them directly in the eye.  Her face was pale, but calm, determined, and the depth of understanding in her eyes shocked Ford.  “Y’see, since Stan’s in a coma, he can’t breathe by himself right now.  That,”  Wendy pointed at the offending object that was sticking out of the mans mouth and trailed over to a machine “is gonna do the breathing for him until he wakes up.”  
  
“Oh.”  Mabel whispered.  She gripped her brothers hand tighter, and he squoze back.  Their clenched hands were trembling, and their knuckles were white and bloodless.  Impossibly, they got closer together, the two twins only filling enough space for one.   _They’re so small, so young!_  Ford longed to reach out, to comfort them, to pull them back into his arms and tell them _don’t worry, don’t cry, I’m here, this will all be okay in the end, trust me, please_ but he couldn’t.  Ford was stuck, clutching the doorway with trembling hands, transfixed by the man lying in the hospital bed.  
  
“Hey,”  Wendy spoke again, one hand extending and coming to rest on Dipper’s shoulder “I know that this is really scary.  I know that you two are worried, and you’re probably feeling awful, right?”  Two silent nods answered her “But I promise, we’re gonna get through this.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned this summer it’s that when you two are together, you can do the impossible.”  Wendy gave a small sad smile “And I’m not gonna lie, it’s gonna feel like Stan waking up is impossible at first.  But -and if my dad asks I never said this- Stan is the toughest old guy I have ever met.  If anyone can pull through this, he can.”   
  
“How do you know?”  Dipper blurted out, almost cutting Wendy off  “How do you know that-all that-he’s gonna-how-”  
  
“Hey, hey, breath dude.  You don’t wanna pass out on us now, do you?”  Wendy said, squeezing Dipper’s shoulder.  The boy took a deep, steadying breath, and Mabel leans even closer into him.  “And how do I know that Stan’s gonna be okay?”  She gives a small, sad chuckle  “I’m a lumberjack, and so are my brothers, and my dad and everyone in my family for as long as people have been cutting down trees.  I’ve got some…unfortunate firsthand experience with this stuff.”  She jerked her head in the direction of the hospital bed.   
  
“Hey Mr Dr Pines, are you okay dude?”  The handyman says to Ford.  But Ford barely hears him.  All he can do is stare at the man in the bed, the man that can’t be his brother, the man that is so still and so quiet and so broken and so small, too small to be Stanley, his brother, his twin who was always restless and larger than life and loud and indomitable and so, so, so Stanley, so unmistakably and unapologetically himself and he couldn’t see his brother in the room, he could only see the man, the broken man that had the same face as Stanley and Ford couldn’t- he couldn’t move he couldn’t think he couldn’t-his throat was tightening and his eyes were burning because Stanley was hurt and Ford couldn’t have stopped it, there was no way he could have stopped it and Stanley was hurt and he was full of tubes and coated in plaster like a poorly made piñata and-  
  
A thick hand clapped down on Fords shoulder “Dude?”  Ford jumped, his gaze snapping away from Stanley and locking on to Soos, his train of thought blessedly derailed.  
  
“Yes.  Yes, I’m fine.”  Ford finally released his grip on the door frame and entered the room, painfully aware of the fact that every eye in the room was on him.  Well, almost every-  
  
“Mr Pines?  I have to talk to you about your plan for paying for your brothers treatment.”  The nurse said, looking down at his clipboard.  
  
“Yes, what about it?”  Ford said, grounding himself further back into reality.  “And its Dr Pines.”  
  
“Well sir, I’ve looked through your brothers records, and he doesn’t have any health insurance.”  The nurse gave Ford a quizzical look, as if he expected Ford to know why Stanley had ignored common sense and sacrificed a few measly dollars a month to take care of himself in case of a major catastrophe like the one they were currently in the middle of.    
  
“Ah.  I see.”  Ford clasped his hands behind his back “How large is the bill so far?”  
  
The nurse rattled off a number, and Ford felt his jaw drop involuntarily _That’s more money than I’ve made in my entire life!_ Ford floundered for a moment, before the handyman spoke   
  
“Hey, I know where Mr. Pines hides the emergency cash.  And the not-emergency cash.  And the I’m-just-hiding-this-to-feel-like-a-pirate cash.  I don’t know how much there is, but it should at least help.”  
  
Mabel gave a little gasp  “And I know for a fact that Grunkle Stan hides cash in a bunch of the attractions in the Shack!  Waddles pantsed the Sascrotch the other week and I found, like, three rolls of twenties stashed in the underpants!”  
  
“Really?”  Ford asked  “Stan has all that money hidden around the Shack?”  
  
“Dude, you don’t know the half of it!”  Soos said  “Mr Pines doesn’t trust the banks, like, at all dude.  I find money hidden everywhere when I’m fixin up stuff.”   
  
   Ford opened his mouth to respond, but the nurse spoke first “I’m sorry, but visiting hours are almost over.  I’m going to have to ask you all to leave.”  
  
   There was an outcry at the nurse’s words.  No one wanted to leave Stanley alone in the hospital.    
  
   Ford spoke above the noise that the children-and the man-child- were making, pleading with the nurse to at least let him stay overnight.  He was, after all, Stan’s next of kin.  He should at least be allowed to do that.  The nurse eventually relented, much to the displeasure of his niblings.  
  
   “Grunkle Ford, we wanna stay too!”  Mabel protested  “What if Stan wakes up in the middle of the night and needs a Mabel hug, huh?  What are you going to do without me?”  
  
   “And if you don’t come back to the Shack, we can’t stay there by ourselves overnight since were minors.  That’s child endangerment!”  Dipper tacked on   
  
   Ford sighed “Look, kids, I know you want to stay here, but I’m sorry, you can’t.  And as for where you’ll spend the night…”  Ford fumbled for a minute before eyeing the handyman “would it be too much trouble for them to stay with you for the night?”  
  
   Soos hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the kids scowling faces and vigorously shaking heads, then looked past Ford to where Stan was lying.  The man-child’s indecisive expression hardened into resigned determination  “As much as I hate to leave Mr Pines during this trying time, I know that he would want me to take care of the little dudes.  You have my word Mr Dr Pines that no further harm with befall these children while they are in my care.”  He ended his statement with stiff, odd salute.  Seeing such seriousness from the bumbling man-child caught Ford off guard.    
  
   Soos had just started to heard Ford’s grumbling niblings out of the hospital room before Wendy stopped the three of them.  “Here.”  She hands over half of the books she brought to Soos, keeping the four largest for herself  “I have the sections that talk about all this stuff-”  she gestures around the room “bookmarked and highlighted.  It’ll help you know more about what Stan’s going through, make it less scary and mysterious, y’know?”  Wendy hung back as Soos and the kids left, and offered the remaining books she had to Ford with a hard look.  
  
   Ford couldn’t hold back a scoff as he refused her offer.  “I have twelve PhD’s, I assure you that I don’t need any light reading material to know what’s going on with my brother.”  Ford turned away, sinking into the chair the nurse had brought in for him.  He started as the books were dumped unceremoniously over his shoulder and into his lap.  Ford turned to look at Wendy and matched the angry teen glare for glare.  
  
   “Look Stan Two, I don’t know what kind of crazy junk you’ve seen and done over the years, and I don’t flippin’ care.  But, y’know, fyi, you aren’t the first and only person to have their own brother _comatose_ after _falling 50 feet and landing on their head!”_  Wendy turned and stalked to the door, hands jammed into her pockets as she left a slightly stunned Ford behind her.  She paused in the doorway, looking past Ford and at Stanley, with a sad, hard scowl on her face.  Ford could see the first signs of tears in her eyes as she spoke again,  “Look, the books do help.  Just trust me on this.”  And then she left in a whirl of red hair and flannel.  
  
    _Well.  This is not how I expected this day to end_.  Ford thought as he looked back at his brother.  Slowly, gently, almost of its own accord, one of his hands reached out, hovering over Stan’s hand, lying rough and wrinkled and scarred in contrast to the pristine, crisp newness of the hospital sheets.  Ford withdrew his hand before making contact, some tiny feeling deep in his gut pulling him back.  With a sigh, Ford flipped open the first book he grabbed, thumbing through the pages to find the first bookmarked section.  He shifted in his seat, getting comfortable and preparing for a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already posted the first few chapters of this on my tumblr, so those are going to be put up fairly quickly. But I'm still working on the next chapter right now.
> 
> Link to my tumblr: https://thepeanutbutterwizard.tumblr.com/
> 
> Link to the song that I'm getting the chapter titles from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6d2aNLzOjLc


	4. Piece by Piece

Ford wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, leaning sideways in the hospital chair with one of the books Wendy left sitting in his lap.  He was hovering on the fringes of unconsciousness, that dreamy state where he could feel the awkward position of his neck and the lackluster padding of the hospital chair and hear the distant voice that was coming from near his brother, but he just didn't care.

 

Slowly the voice became clearer, and Ford grabbed onto it like a life preserver, pulling himself back into consciousness.  Something stirred in his chest- ~~panic, joy, fear, shame guilt guilt~~ _ ~~guilt~~ -_ that he couldn’t quite pin down until he was able to identify the voice as belonging to the hairless gopher man-child.  Ford started to sit up, but something in Soos’s voice made Ford pause and listen, feigning sleep. He opened his eyes a fraction and peered through his lashes, the man-child not having noticed him moving before.

 

"-and don't worry, the Shack is open today.”  Ford was staring at the back of Soos’s head, but he didn’t need to see his face to know that the handyman was still just as upset as he had been yesterday.  Ford could hear it in his voice, see it in the way Soos mashed his baseball cap between his meaty fists.  “Mabel’s in charge again, and Dippers doing the tours. You'd love to see him go Mr. Pines, he does a great job.  But not as good as you dood," Soos said with a little sniff. Or, well, a rather loud sniff  “no one can compare to the original Mr. M-mystery."  Soos's voice broke on the last word, and through barely cracked eyelids Ford saw the young man's shoulders tremble.

 

"We're all really worried about you Mr. Pines. Dipper and Mabel both cried themselves to sleep last night, and Wendy is low-key freaking out.  We were texting until like, two in the morning cause neither of us could sleep."  Soos took a trembling breath before continuing, “We all really need you to wake up soon dood. I mean, without you, who's gonna read out of the joke book? And who's gonna punch zombies and pterodactyls for Dipper and Mabel? Who's gonna complain about Waddles eating the attractions? Wendy won't have anyone to call a crappy boss anymore, and she's gonna get like, sent up state and you know she doesn't wanna do that. And I-" Soos's voice broke into a sob, and Ford watched the young man break down in front of him, twisting his hat between his hands "I really can't have my dad leave again. So-so you gotta wake up soon." He gave the hat in his hands a final twist before tugging it back onto his head “Please Da-ad."

 

Ford was tense in his seat, hands gripping the armrests, but he was able to collect himself enough to relax before Soos turned, scrubbing his eyes dry.

 

"The kids'll be here soon. Wendy and Abuelita are gonna be bringing them. I just had to come check right now, in case you were up. You always get up early, so I thought you might’ve decided to wake up now.  I'm gonna go use the bathroom dood, brb." Soos walked off, leaving Ford alone with his jumbled thoughts and his comatose brother.

 

Ford felt like an intruder. Which was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous! Stanley was his brother, his twin! Soos was just the handyman at the Shack.  If anything, Soos was the intruder here. Ford had known Stan all his life!

 

Even though they had only seen each other once in the past forty years before now.

 

And sure things weren't the best between them, but still, how big a part of Stan's life could this simple employee be?  Soos couldn't mean as much to Stan as his actual family, as Ford and the kids do, could he? Family had always been everything to Stan.

 

 ** _But what makes someone family?_** A voice echoed in his head

 

 _Blood relation_ Ford replied

 

**_Really?  Blood relation didn’t stop your father from throwing Stan out, did it?  Would family do that?_ **

 

_I don’t-_

 

**_And what about Fiddleford?  He was the first real friend you made after Stanley betrayed you, wasn’t he?  He was a stranger that came to be like another brother to you.  Don’t you think Stanley can form connections outside of you?_ **

          

_...well-_

 

**_He seems to have made some connection with Soos.  You’ve seen how much the children adore him.  Even Wendy, his cashier is amazingly loyal to him.  Why is that so hard for you to accept?_ **

 

    _..._

 

           ** _Are you afraid?_**

 

**** _Afraid? Ridiculous! What do I have to be afraid of here?_

 

_**That Stanley doesn’t ne-**_

 

“Oh, hi Mr. Dr. Pines." Soos came back, and disrupting the intrusive thoughts "how long have you been up?"

          

Ford hadn't even noticed he had sat up. "Oh, ahem, uh just a few minutes. Wha-when did you get here?" Ford fibbed through his teeth.  Tear tracks still shone dully on Soos’s face, and his eyes were ringed red.  Ford pretended not to notice.

 

       "I think twenty minutes ago dood?”  Soos said, sounding almost as cheerily oblivious as he normally sounded  “Or maybe two hours? I don't really know, what time is it?" Soos looked at his wrist

       

"Um, you aren't wearing a watch.”  Ford noticed, giving the man-child an inquisitive look.

 

“Oh, I know dood.  I just kinda like pretending I have one until I can fix mine.”  Soos gave a small smile and a shrug.  “The small gears are _really_ hard to use duck tape on.”

 

“Ah.  I see.”  An odd silence filled the room, partially amiable, and partially awkward, punctuated by the sounds of the machines surrounding the bed.  A small part of Ford’s chest ached, filled with questions that he longed to ask this stranger that knew his brother.  But how in the multiverse could he start that conversation? _By the way, I was just eavesdropping on you as you were emotionally baring your soul to my comatose brother, and I’m mildly confused. Could you please explain to me, in great detail, the exact nature of your relationship with Stanley, as well as give me a timeline of your life, a pedigree chart that goes back five generations, and any other information you can think of that will help me understand why you referred to my brother as your father?_ Even Ford could tell that that was tactless.

 

And so they sat in silence and waited.

 

It wasn’t more than a few minutes before door was opened and Mabel came whirling into the hospital room, Dipper close behind.  Stan’s fez was perched on Mabel’s head, and for the first time she was wearing a sweater Ford had already seen her in, a dark pink sweater with purple puzzle pieces decorating it.  Ford started when he saw Dipper; the boy was wearing a miniature version of Stan’s absurd ‘Mr. Mystery’ suit, complete with a flipped up eye patch and his hair slicked back ~~looking far too much like a younger Stanley for Ford’s liking.~~  Mabel’s almost too-wide grin contrasted sharply with Dipper’s deep frown.  Mabel immediately went over to Stan’s side and started babbling to him cheerfully, not seeming to care that Stan was unable to hear her.

 

“No hat today?” Ford asked Dipper as the boy came to stand by him.  Dipper quickly turned away from Ford, keeping his eyes down on the floor.

 

“Lost it at the-the thing yesterday.” Dipper muttered.  Ford was puzzled by Dippers actions. Surely the boy was shaken, but could an event like this really start to drive him away from Ford so soon after the two had started to bond?  

 

“Ah, you must the other Mr. Pines that my Soos has told me about.”  Fords attention was drawn to an elderly lady holding a rather garish carpet bag he hadn’t noticed come in.  She came over to Ford and extended a hand “Ramona Ramirez, so nice to meet you.”  Ford hesitated a moment before giving a handshake.

 

“Stanf- Stanley Pines.” Ford said.

 

Mrs. Ramirez made a small noise in the back of her throat.  She gave Ford a limp handshake, barely grasping his fingers.  

 

The rest of the visit went by in a blur.  Before Ford knew it, Mabel and Dipper were giving him tight hugs and heading out of the door.  Soos gave Ford a small buck-toothed grin as he herded the kids out.  Wendy didn’t acknowledge Fords existence, and he returned the favor.  But, to his surprise, Ford wasn’t alone with Stanley after the door shut.  Soos’s grandmother was sitting in a heavily padded camp chair next to Fords seat.  And she was holding a bundle of clothes in her arms.

 

“It is good to see you again Dr. Pines.  Although you probably don’t remember when that happened.”  She rose and shoved the bundle of clothes into Fords arms with more force than he would have expected.  “You smell terrible and look a mess.  Go clean up.”

 

Ford gaped at the woman as she sat back down, and started rummaging through her carpet bag.  He...really didn’t know what to make of this.  He was positive he had never met this woman before in his life, and why was she even still here?  Who did she think she was to stay here, invading both Stanley’s and Ford’s privacy, bossing Ford around with the gall to say he needed to clean up, excuse him for having more important matters on his mind than trivial grooming when his brother, his twin, was in a hospital, hurt and vulnerable and _he wasn’t there to protect him and-_

 

“Dr. Pines, you can say what you want to me, but after you freshen up.”  Mrs. Ramirez had looked up from her bag when she noticed Ford hadn’t moved.  “You...look rather run down at the moment.  I am sure that the children noticed as well that you are not doing too well.  They are worried about you.  I believe they will worry less if they see you with a shaved face and clean clothes when they come by later today, don’t you?”  She gave him a look that made him think of his own mother when she spoke.

 

“I...suppose you have a point.”  Ford said, feeling his heart rate start to drop and his hands unclench (when did he tense up in the first place?).  How could he have not thought of that?  No wonder Dipper didn’t want to look at Ford, he must be a mess.  And now that he thought of it, the children’s hugs had been rather brief.  Ford felt ashamed for upsetting them, and the blood started rising in his cheeks.  He turned on his heel before Mrs. Ramirez could notice and retreated into the small bathroom in Stan’s room.  Ford pushed the door close, but hesitated before letting in click into place in the door frame.  The last time he let Stanley out of his sight, all of this happened.  The Incident (the details of which Ford didn’t have fully at the moment, but he couldn’t bear to press Dipper and Mabel about it when they were sobbing to him about it in the waiting room), the time spent fretting in the waiting room being useless and helpless, wondering _how could this happen, why did this happen to us, why wasn’t I there, I could have stopped this,_ the shock of seeing the quiet, still man in the bed and realizing that that was Stanley and that he was hurt-

 

Ford dimly noticed that his hands were shaking.   _Calm down Stanford,_ a gruff voice echoed faintly in his ears. _You’re getting wrapped up in yer own head again.  If ya don’t calm down, yer never gonna get this to work._  They were words from years ago, when Ford had worked himself into frenzy over...over...over something.  He couldn’t remember, he couldn’t think, he was-

 

The bundle slipped out of his hands.  Ford stared at it on the hospital floor for a moment or two before moving to grab the scattered contents.  He used the task to ground himself.  Ford was frazzled and on edge, but he didn’t know why.  Surely some of it had to be stress from everything that had happened...yes.  That’s all it was.  Just a little stress throwing him off his game, making him even jumpier than normal.  Ford just had to keep his head, keep on top of it.  He had to be strong for the kids.  For Stanley.  With a solid nudge, Ford closed the door behind him.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Ford was feeling calmer, if a little drained, and wholly uncomfortable.  Mrs. Ramirez had given him, along with the clothes (which reeked of mothballs) a small can of shaving cream and a razor, a hairbrush, and a travel bottle of shampoo.  Ford was tempted to simply change and ignore the other items, but he was mildly afraid that if he did Mrs. Ramirez would simply drag him back into the bathroom and wash him herself.  

 

His hair was quickly washed in the sink and brushed through.  Shaving is what took the most time.  Ford found it tedious to have to use a razor, but without his usual supplies he was unable to shave any other way.  He nicked himself twice, but avoided tossing the razor at the far wall until he had finished.  Ford didn’t know where Mrs. Ramirez had obtained the change of clothes for him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.  The stench of mothballs had been bad enough before Ford had put the clothes on; now it was so overwhelming that he could taste the mothballs.  The shirt, a wrinkled button-down, was barely wide enough in the shoulders and too large around the middle.  The pants were large too, and long; Ford had to roll up the cuffs of the pant legs, and cinch his belt tight around his waist to keep them from tripping him up.  He couldn’t tuck the pant legs into his boots, so he left them out.  A quick look in the mirror showed that the collar of Fords borrowed shirt didn’t quite cover his tattoo, so when he throws his trench coat on, he tugs the collar high and hopes for the best.  Normally Ford would have worried more about the horrendous tattoo, but he had already been away from Stan for too long, so his trench coat would have to work for the moment.

 

As soon as he left the bathroom Ford was struck by how ridiculous he looked.  He was close to ducking back inside for a few minutes, if only to collect himself.  Ford had worn outfits that were much more uncomfortable and embarrassing whilst traveling through dimensions with little shame.  This, however, felt worse than the other times.  Ford supposed he was ashamed at the thought of Dipper and Mabel seeing him in this state when they came to visit later tonight.  And Stan wouldn’t let him live it down if he saw Ford dressed so ridiculously.

 

 ** _If Stan ever wakes up that is._** The words fill Fords head without warning.

 

 _NO!  Stan will wake up!_ Ford’s heart picks up again, a small swell of panic picking up again.

 

**_Are you sure?  You may not be a medical doctor, but you know enough to know that he doesn’t have very good odds, especially at his age.  With every day that goes by his chances of waking up go down, and his chance of making a full recovery if he does ever wake up is already low.  Stop deluding yourself Stanford, and face the facts!  You’re the smart one after all.  It’s what you’re supposed to do._ **

 

 _Shut. Up._ Ford wrestles with the intrusive thoughts, shoving them down into the back of his mind.   _Stanley will wake up.  He’ll be alright.  He’s strong.  He can make it._

 

Ford resumed his spot by Stan’s bed, carefully avoiding looking at Mrs. Ramirez’s face as she took his clothes from him.  “I will wash these for you and bring them back later.  Now you eat.”  To Ford’s surprise a napkin and a plate were dropped in his lap.  The plate was soon filled with several tamale’s, which were still warm.  Ford looked up in time to see Mrs. Ramirez putting a Tupperware box back into her carpet bag.

 

“Urh, yes thank you, but I really must ask you-” Ford started to say

 

“I’m sorry if the clothes are uncomfortable.  They were my husbands, and I didn’t have it in me to get rid of them after he died.  And anyway, they fit my Soos so nicely now that he is all grown, so it is not a bad thing.  Lemonade?”  Mrs. Ramirez procured a small thermos and a few plastic cups from her carpet bag.

 

Ford decided to ignore the fact that he was wearing dead stranger’s clothes, opting to focus on the seed of annoyance that was growing in his gut. “What, no.  Anyways, could you tell me-”

 

“Such a shame.  It’s very good lemonade.”  She poured a cup for herself.  “Are you sure you don’t want any of-”

 

“Yes I am _quite_ sure that I _do not want_ any lemonade!”  Ford snapped “What I want, Mrs. Ramirez, is for you to _answer my question._ ”

 

Mrs. Ramirez didn’t respond to Ford outburst.  She simply took a long drink of her lemonade as Ford sat fuming in his chair.  She finished and placed her cup on the ground, then met Fords glare with a matronly look.  “What is it that you are so eager to know, Dr. Pines? And, please, call me Ramona.”

 

Ford sucks in a tiny breath, trying to calm himself, keep the tremor out of his voice.  “I would like to know what you meant earlier.  When you said it was nice to see me again.”

 

“Ah.  I knew you wouldn’t remember.  It was over thirty years ago.”  Mrs. Ramirez gave a small smile.  “You had barely moved into town at the time you see.  The Corduroys’ had just finished your cabin, and you were moving your things in.  My friend Susan and I liked to welcome newcomers to Gravity Falls with pies and quilts.  And we brought my daughter, Maria, along with us.  She was only five at the time.”  A small, proud smile lit up Mrs. Ramirez’s face as she spoke of her daughter.  “She was a fiery, energetic child, always wanting to meet new people, make new friends.  That’s actually why I remember this visit so well.  When you opened the door, Maria started introducing the three of us, chattering on and on.  You didn’t quite know what to make of her, or any of us really.”

 

The tiniest bit of memory tickled the edges of Fords mind.  If he thought about it, he could vaguely recall an incident involving a pie when he was first moving in.  His first encounter with the gnomes had been them breaking into his kitchen to steal the pie, and now that he thought of it an old quilt he had seen in the Shack did look vaguely familiar.  But Ford had a hard time remembering anything about two women coming to call with a toddler in tow.

 

“I tried to come around a few more times, but you were always so busy.  Eventually I stopped.  But Maria kept asking me to take her to visit Stanford Pines, the six-fingered science man again.  She was quite enamored by you, you know.”  She pointed at the plate of untouched tamales in Fords lap.  “Please, eat Dr. Stanford.”

 

Ford took a bite of one of the tamales to appease Mrs. Ramirez, before a sudden revelation had him chocking on it.  A glass of lemonade was placed in his hand, and he took several gulps from it to quell the coughing.  A small part of him felt bad for snapping at Mrs. Ramirez; it was very good lemonade.  “Have-” Ford wheezed “have you know that Stan wasn’t me this whole time?”

 

Mrs. Ramirez smiled.  “Yes.”

 

“…oh.”  Ford turned his attention back to the tamales.  He and Mrs. Ramirez sat in silence as he ate.  

 

And then Ford had an idea.  “So, your daughter, Maria.  She’s Soos’s mother I presume?”  Ford tried to sound casual.  _Stan would be able to pull this off._

 

Mrs. Ramirez gave a sad smile “Yes, she was.  She loved my little Jesus so much.  But she left this world far too soon.  She is with the angels now, waiting to greet me and the rest of her family.”

 

Ford, Jewish by birth and a scientist by choice, decided not to give Mrs. Ramirez his two cents on that matter.  He instead asked a question that had been on his mind since he woke up.  “What about the boy’s father?”

 

Ford wasn’t prepared for the long stream of rapid, vehement Spanish expletives that came from Mrs. Ramirez.  Her tirade increased in volume as she went on, before ending with a statement in English “That man didn’t deserve my daughter, or Jesus, and I am glad to be rid of him!  If he ever comes back here I will make him wish he was never born!”

 

Ford wisely decided not to comment on this outburst, and instead decided to focus on his tamales.  _Well, at least that rules out Stanley as the boy’s father._ Unfortunately, this revelation only left Ford with more questions, questions that he would have to save for Stanley, ~~if~~ _when_ he woke up.

 

Mrs. Ramirez spoke as Ford finished his meal.  “I should be going now.  I will be bringing you your own clothes tomorrow.  And Soos and the children will be here later today.  Wendy will probably bring food, so there will be no nasty cafeteria food for you.”  She took Fords plate and napkin, then folded up her chair and stowed it in her carpet bag.  Somehow.  Ford was puzzling over how she could fit everything that he had seen in the average sized bag when Mrs. Ramirez said her goodbye.  It occurred to Ford that he probably should have said farewell.


	5. If You Sang Along

Ford was flipping through channels on the rooms t.v., and had just found a news station he was looking for when the hospital rooms door open behind him.  He turned and saw his niblings and Stan’s employee’s filing into the room.  A brief flash of embarrassment filled Ford as he remembered what he was wearing.

 

“Hi Grunkle Ford!”  Mabel squealed happily.  Ford stood to greet her, and he stumbled backward as she launched herself at him, wrapping her good arm tightly around his waist.  A backpack was slung over her good shoulder, and Stan’s fez was still perched on her head.  “Did you miss me?”

 

Ford chuckled as he hugged her back “Mabel, I saw you less than nine hours ago!”  The embarrassment faded under Mabel’s enthusiastic onslaught.

 

“Then we both agree that that is _way_ too long to not see your favorite niece!”  Mabel gave Ford a brace-filled grin, one that felt more genuine than the one she had worn that morning.

 

“Well, I guess that is true.”  Ford said as the pair sepperated.  Dipper was standing not too far from his sister.  He was still wearing the suit he had had on earlier in the day, but the gel had been partially combed out of his hair, making his bangs stick out in funny clumps.  Surprisingly, Wendy’s hat was on his head, pushing his clumpy bangs down over his forehead.  “How are you doing Dipper?”  Ford asked, remembering his nephews reticence earlier that day.

 

To Fords surprise however, Dipper wraps his arms tightly around Ford’s waist.  “I’m fine, Great-Uncle Ford.”  Dipper murmured.  After a moment, Ford returns the hug, a small smile on his face. 

 

Dipper stepped back, heading over to the side of Stan’s bed where Mabel was standing and talking quietly to Stan.  Soos was standing on Stanley’s other side.  Ford started a little as Wendy quietly appeared next to him.  She held a foil-wrapped burger out to Ford that Ford was positive she hadn’t been holding when she walked into the room.  “Here.  Mrs. Ramirez told me to bring you something.”

 

“Er, thank you.”  Ford took the burger and set it in the empty chair, before turning his attention back to Mabel as she started to rummage through her backpack with a little help from Dipper.

 

“I knit you something Grunkle Stan.  In fact, I knit you two somethings!”  Mabels voice was brimming with pride as she spoke.

 

The first thing she pulled out was a large, dark blue object.  With some help from both Dipper and Soos, Mabel unrolled and drapped the knitware over Stan.  It was a blanket, in varying shades of blue, with a simple light grey sailboat design knit in the center.  Ford felt his heart catch in his throat.

 

“I know you hate the cold, and it’s pretty chilly in here, so I made you a blanket!  I was thinking of making a sweater, but I thought you would like this better right now.  And, here’s the second something!”  Mabel reached into her bag with her good hand and easily pulled a small, cream colored sash decorated with red and blue letters, spelling out the words ‘Our Hero’.  Mabel folded it in half and set it on Stan’s pillow just above his head.  “You’ve saved me and Dipper so many times this summer, I thought it would be nice to make something official!”  Her grin faded when Stan remained still and silent.  Dipper put his good hand on Mabels uninjured shoulder.

 

“He’s gonna love them when he wakes up Mabel.”  Dipper said reassuringly.

Mabel smiled at her brother, but it was smaller and sadder.  “Of course he will Dipper.  I just wish I could see how much he likes them now.”  Suddenly, her face lit up again “I almost forgot!”  Mabel reached into  her bag again, and pulled out a wrapped parcel.  She held it out to Ford, “I made something for you too Grunkle Ford!”

 

Ford tore open the wrapping, and gaped at what it he saw.  A dark blue, almost black, turtleneck sweater, made of softer yarn than the ones Ford normaly wore, the front decorated with a few colorful planets and small five pointed stars, looked up at him invitingly.  “You made this for me?”  Ford was shocked at the kindness shown by his niece.

 

“Of course!  I started working on it the day after you got here!”  Mabel said.  She frowned a little.  “Do you like it?”  Mabel sounded uncertain and a little afraid.

 

Ford knelt down in front of her, holding his new sweater close to him.  “Mabel, this is the nicest gift anyone has given me in a long while.  I love it.”  He gave her a large smile.

 “Thank you.”

 

Mabel gave an excited squeal, then wrapped her arm around Fords neck in a brief hug, before shoving him lightly towards the bathroom.  “Go try it on, go try it on, go try it on!”

 

Ford chuckled as he retreated into the bathroom.  He tore the mothball infused button-down off of himself with relish, and pulled the new sweater on over his head.  The sweater was a little looser than his normal ones, but was still a good fit.

 

When Ford exited the bathroom, a smile on his face, the first thing he noticed was that the TV had its volume turned up.  Everyone was silently watching the newscast.  Ford came and stood next to Wendy.  He looked up to watch video footage of a large man with balding brown hair in an orange jumpsuit being lead out of Gravity Falls Town Hall, which, if Ford remembered correctly, also served as the small towns courthouse.  As the man was lead into the back of a police, a female reporters voice spoke over the video feed.

 

“And here we see local used car salesman Bud Gleeful being lead out of his trial, where he was found guilty of the attempted murder of local hero Stanford Pines and his great-niece and great-nephew, Mabel and Dipper Pines.  Bud Gleeful will be joining his son, Lil’ Gideon, in prison.  Stanford Pines is currently hospitalized due to the injuries he sustained during the election, and we have been unable to obtain an update on his status.  I’m Shandra Jimenez, thank you for watching.”

 

“Good riddance.”  Wendy muttered next to Ford, but Ford could barely hear her.  Blood pounded in his ears, and his hands curled into tight fists.  He stalked forward unconsciously, still staring at the TV screen even as Soos reached up to turn it off.

 

Soos turned and started when he caught sight of the murderous look on Ford’s face.  “Uh, Mr. Dr. Pines?  Are you okay dood?”  His gopher-like face twisted into a concerned frown.

 

“That’s the man who did this.”  Ford’s voice was low and quiet, rumbling in his throat.  Something Ford had never felt before stirred in his gut, a terrible, monstrous feeling, spreading through his veins and making his whole body feel hot.  Pure hatred clouded Fords mind, making his vision go red.  The words ‘attempted murder’ swirled through Ford’s head, burning like acid.  _That man tried to kill my brother._

 

A small weight rested on Fords clenched fist, and Ford flinched, whirling to face his assailant- and saw Mabel staring up at him.  She slowly reached for Fords hand again.  “Grunkle Ford?”

 

Ford took a shuddering breath before kneeling in front of Mabel again.  “Y-yes, Mabel?”  She held his large six-fingered hand in her own smaller one.

 

“Grunkle Ford, you can’t blame Bud.  It was his son Gideon’s fault.”  Mabel step closer to Ford, gently knocking him into a sitting position.  She climbed into his lap and snuggled close into Ford.  “Gideon was the one who did this.”

 

“Yeah Great-Uncle Ford.” Dipper said, sitting down next to Ford.  “Gideon was using some kind of, I don’t know, spell to control him from prison.  Like-like the tie I used on G-grunkle Stan.”  Dipper sniffed, leaning closer to Ford.  “We did the exact same thing.”

 

Ford put an arm over Dippers shoulders and pulled him closer to him.  Dipper snuggled into Fords side.  “Dipper…” Ford sighed  “You are nothing like the person who hurt Stanley.”

 

“But, we both-with the mind control-and maybe if I had just talked to Stan-maybe he wouldn’t-he wouldn’t-”  Dipper started to hyperventilate, pulling Wendy’s oversized hat down over his eyes. 

 

Ford couldn’t think of anything to say.  He had never really been the one to comfort the panicking person.  Ford was usually the panicking person.  Stan had been there to calm him down ~~until he was gone.~~   Stan was the one who would be able to talk Dipper down from this.

 

“Dipper-” Mabel squirmed a little in Fords lap, reaching for her brother.  “It’s not your fault.”

 

“And I know for a fact that Stanley would never fault you for this.”  Ford pulled Dipper into his lap with Mabel.  Ford’s heart clenched as Dipper started to softly cry into his chest.  “You aren’t to blame for this.”  A small thought tickled at Fords mind.  He remembered the torn pages he had found in his second Journal.  At the time, he had been angrily trying to remember what had been on those pages, and had been resolving to chew Stanley out next time he saw him.  But, as he thought, he recalled having an incantation written down.  _A possession incantation._   _It could easily be considered a mind control spell._ Ford felt a lump of dread in his throat as he spoke again.  “Stanley didn’t happen to tell you kids where he found my second Journal, did he?”  Ford tried to keep his tone even.

 

Dipper and Mabel both gave him confused looks, and silently shook their heads.  Both of them had tears in their eyes now, and Ford felt a stab of guilt, and he wrapped his arms tightly around them, tucking both children against his chest.  He shouldn’t be interrogating the children right now!  But, he had to know, he _had_ to ask them about the person, Gideon, who tried to kill his family.  The woman on the news said that the man Ford had seen was Gideon’s father, but he didn’t look old enough to have a child who could have been incarcerated in a legitimate prison.  But still, if they were a local family, Gideon could have found the second Journal while attending the elementary.  Ford needed to know all he could.  _But,_ he thought as he heard one of Stanleys employee’s moving around behind him _maybe I would be better off asking another local._

 

Ford gently rocked his niece and nephew, feeling two wet spots grow on his sweater.  After maybe fifteen minutes, Dipper and Mabel’s crying slowed, and they pulled away from him.

 

 “Sorry, Great-Uncle Ford.  We got your sweater all wet.”  Dipper murmured, eyes down.

 

With a quiet moan, Ford hauled himself to his feet before helping his niblings up off of the floor.  “Don’t worry about it my boy.  It’s far from ruined.”  Ford glanced at the clock.  “It’s getting late.  You all should be heading out.”

 

His statement was met by protests, but Ford succeded in shooing the children out the door.  “Ms. Corduroy, could you wait a moment please?”  Ford said quietly, hoping not to attract the attention of the twins in the halls.  Soos stalled in the doorway, looking between Wendy and Ford in confusion.

 

Wendy waved him off “Go ahead Soos.  I’ll catch up.”  

 

“Okay dood.”  Soos gave an uncertain nod before shutting the door behind him. 

Wendy walked over to the chair Ford had been living in, plucked the wrapped burger out of it, and plopped down in it, turning sideways and slinging her legs sideways over the arm.  She lobbed the foil parcel at Ford, and Ford fumbled to catch it.  “So Stan Two, why are you keeping me after class?”

 

Ford gaped slightly.  This teenager never failed to shock Ford with her flippant behavior.  “Y-yes Ms. Corduroy. I need to ask you a few questions about this Gideon person.”  

 

“Fire away Stan Two.  What do you want to know about the little creep?”  Wendy picked at her fingernails, not looking up at Ford.  Ford found the inattentiveness extraordinarily annoying.

 

“How old is he, first off.  And what motivated him to attack my family like this?  Has he done anything like this in the past?  And his father, how is he-”  Ford started listing his inquiries, only to be interrupted by Wendy.

 

“Yeah, hold up, Stan Two.”  Wendy held up a hand.  “Too many questions at once.  I was only joking about the whole ‘kept after class’ thing.”  She leaned on one elbow.  “Gideon is a ten-year-old twerp.  He used to do this dumb Tent of Telepathy thing, sort of like the Mystery Shack, until Stan and the kids got him thrown in jail for stealing the deed to the Shack and putting freaky surveillance cameras up, so he could keep up his dumb ‘phony psychic’ bit”  Wendy went back to examining her nails “And I caught him stealing my moisturizer.”

 

Ford blinked in shock “The person who tried to kill my brother is a _ten-year-old?”_ Ford felt the hatred from earlier bubbling back up.  But, surely there wasn’t a chance that this child was smart enough to find where Ford had hidden his second Journal.  Perhaps his father could have helped him find it?  “Has he or anyone in his family ever shown any signs of knowledge of the paranormal?”

 

Wendy gave Ford an appraising look.  “I’m not quite sure you want the answer to that.”

 

“And why would that be, Ms. Corduroy?” Ford felt a seed of dread settling in his stomach.

 

“Okay, stop with the ‘Ms. Corduroy’ junk, would you?  It’s weird.”  Wendy shifted in her seat, and it occurred to Ford that the position she was sitting in looked fairly uncomfortable.  It gave off an air of cool disinterest, but the one of the arms had to be digging into her spine.

 

 “Bud Gleeful used to be part of this freaky memory erasing cult, but we took care of that.  Dipper and Mabel have told me about this blue amulet Gideon used to have, but that’s gone now.  And they told me something about a triangle guy Gideon summoned to steal a safe code from Stan’s mind.”  She gave a shrug.  “Gideon’s been terrorizing the Shack since like, the second week Dipper and Mabel got here.”

 

Wendy’s words made Ford’s blood run cold, but her mention of a triangle in Stanley’s mind made Ford’s blood freeze in his veins.  Everything Wendy had said, the amulet and summoning Bill Cipher, combined with the missing Journal pages and the possession spell, pointed to only one conclusion: this Gideon Gleeful boy had used Ford’s research, his own prized Journal, to repeatedly attack and harass his family.  Ford’s own research had been used to try and kill Stanley!  Ford’s stomach roiled.

 

“Hey, Stan Two, are you alright?”  Genuine concern colored Wendy’s voice.  She swung herself out of the chair, and took a step closer to Ford, on hand slightly outstretched. “You look a little…nauseous.”

 

“I…I ah-” Ford started to stammer.  He felt like he was going to be sick.  Ford was never one to have a weak stomach, and thirty years traveling the multiverse had given him what was almost literally an iron stomach.  And yet, he could feel bile stinging the back of his throat as the tamales Mrs. Ramirez had fed him earlier tried to claw their way out of him.  Ford struggled to find something to say, but a single sound coming from his right made Fords heart stop.

 

A single, strangled groan. 

 

Coming from Stanley.  

 

Ford and Wendy, both frozen in place, watched as Stanley, eyes half opened but glazed over, groaned again, this time louder.  One trembling hand, the one not wrapped in a cast, lifted from the sheets, moving slowly but deliberately.  Stanley’s gnarled hand wrapped around the breathing tube, and with a strangled yell, he ripped it out of his mouth.  And he started screaming.

 

In an instant, four, five, six doctors and nurses appeared, crowding around Stanley.  His arm flailed around, ripping out IV lines, and even though Stanley wasn’t lucid, and had two limbs in a cast, the hospital staff were having trouble holding him down.  Ford’s head was filled with the sound of hoarse, raspy screaming, mixed with the sound of the doctors and nurses talking to and over each other.  He caught a few snippets of what they were saying.

 

“-get the restraints-”

 

“-sedative ready-”

 

“-strong for an old guy-”

 

One of the doctors was caught by Stanley’s waving fist, and thrown to the ground, knocking Ford back.  Ford hit the wall, and through the gap made by the fallen doctor he could see Stanley, face contorted in fear, as the doctors wrestled him down.  One of them had a needle filled with a clear drug, and two of them were trying to get Stanley’s arm tied down into a padded restraint.

 

Ford saw red.  Instincts honed over thirty years took hold.  His brother was in _danger_ surrounded by threats.  Ford had to do something!  One hand reached for his gun, only to close on thin air.  A small bit of alarm trilled through Ford, but it was smothered by his need to protect his brother.  The odds were six-to-one against him, but Ford knew he could beat the people attacking Stanley.  He wouldn’t fail this time.  Ford surged forward, lunging for the nearest assailant- only for two arms to grab him around his middle.  His arms were pinned to his sides, and Ford felt nothing but panic.  He had to get to Stanley!  His brother needed him!  _He couldn’t fail him again!_

_“-_ alm down, Dr. Pines.  Please!  They’re trying to help.”  Ford heard a voice he recognized.  Wendy.  Wendy was holding him back from-from the doctors.  The _doctors_ that were trying to help Stanley, keep him from hurting himself.  Ford forced himself to relax, and Wendy let go after a few moments, once she was sure Ford wouldn’t go after the doctors, or anyone else.  

 

The two of them watched in horrified silence as one of the doctors injected Stanley with the sedative.  Ford felt the bile rise in his throat again as the drug took effect, and Stanley’s struggles subsided.  He lay still again, and the doctors swarmed around Stanley, reconnecting IV’s, reinserting the breathing tube, and, to Ford’s dismay, locking Stan into restraints.

 

“Are those really necessary?”  Wendy asked one of the doctors as they left the room.

 

“I’m afraid so miss.”  The doctor said, her voice tinged with practiced sympathy, but her eyes had a genuine warmth in them.  “There’s a good chance he could wake up violent again.  We can’t run the risk of him hurting himself, or anyone else.”  She gave Wendy and Ford a small smile, before she and the other medical staff disappeared as quickly as they arrived.

 

Ford felt the adrenaline leave his body in one big rush, and his knees buckled.  Wendy gave a startled gasp before grabbing Fords arm, and hauling him over to the chair by Stan’s bedside.  He promptly collapsed into it, the chair groaning under him.

 

“Dr. Pines, are you alright?”  Wendy sounded concerned.  It was the most emotion Ford had heard from her all day.  

 

“I’m fine.”  Ford managed to croak out.  He stared past Wendy, looking at Stanley but not quiet focusing on him  “You should go.  The kids and Soos are waiting for you.”

 

Wendy frowned “Are you sure Dr. Pines?  You really don’t look good.  Do you need me to get you anything?” 

 

“ _I said I’m fine!”_ Ford growled out through gritted teeth.  Wendy pulled back, and the tiniest bit of guilt poked the numbness inside of Ford.  “I would like to be left alone with my brother right now, please.”

 

Wendy slowly moved toward the door.  “Okay.  If you’re sure.”  She paused briefly in the doorway, like she wanted to say more, but instead she shut the door and left.

 

Ford took a deep, shuddering breath, before moving the chair he was in closer to Stanley.  His brothers face was peaceful now, but there were the signs of tears drying of his face.  Stanley had been _crying_ as he struggled against the doctors.  Stanley had been crying and in pain and Ford had done _nothing._ Ford had been _useless.  Again!_

 

Ford reached out a tentative, trembling hand.  It hovered over Stanley’s bound hand, before Ford snapped his hand away like he had been bitten.  Burning shame coursed through Ford.  This was his fault.  This was _all his fault!_   Ford’s research, his life’s work, had been used against his family.  His grudge against his brother had led him to hide in his lab, instead of going to the election and supporting Stanley like a good brother would have done.  If Ford had been there, he could have stopped this from happening, he could have saved him!

 

But Ford hadn’t been there.  He had given a twelve-year-old a mind control tie, and considered himself a hero, finding the best way to help his stubborn brother.  He had considered watching the election on TV, but he hadn’t even done that!  Ford was a _failure,_ a man who had let his brother down.  A memory swam to the front of Ford’s mind, of Stanley with his arms opened wide and tears in his eyes in the room with the Portal.  The simple love and joy that had been destroyed by Ford’s fist cracking across Stanley’s face.  Even now, Ford could see the faintest shadow of the bruise he had left on Stanley’s cheek, almost gone bit not quite.

 

Ford felt a wetness on his face and an ache in his chest.  If he could go back, and accept that hug from his brother, he would.  But he couldn’t.  Ford knew he could never get that moment back.  And he knew it was his fault.

 

Ford rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.  For the first time in over thirty years, Stanford Filbrick Pines wept, deeply and earnestly.  He wept for the brother he hadn’t allowed himself to miss.  He wept for over forty years spent wasted.  Ford wept until he felt every last drop of water had left his body, and then he wept some more.

 

It felt like hours, but eventually Fords tears dried up.  The only sounds in the room were the sounds made by the machines surrounding his twin.  Until, something reached Ford’s ears, something that sent a chill down his spine and bolts of lightning shooting down his limbs.

 

Laughter.  Familiar, high pitched laughter that had haunted Fords nightmares for years.  Except, for the first time, this laughter, this horrible laughter, was strangled.  Like the throat it was coming from had something inside of it.  Like a breathing tube.

 

Ford bolted upright, knocking the chair over.  Pure horror flooded every inch of Ford’s body as his eyes landed on Stanley’s face, rooting Ford to the ground he stood on.

 

Stanley was awake again.  An uncomfortably wide grin split his face.  His teeth clamped down on the breathing tube.  He pulled against the restraints, muscles straining.  The arm in the cast contorted against the plaster, reaching for the breathing tube.  For the second time that night, the breathing tube was wrenched from Stanley’s throat.  The shrill laughter increased, filling Ford’s ears.  But worse than the laughter, worse than anything Ford had ever seen, was the lurid yellow color and the cat-like pupils staring back at him from his brother, his own twin’s face.

 

The thing wearing Stanley’s body propped himself up on the cast coated elbow, leering at Ford as he pulled against the restraints even harder, no doubt putting harmful strain on Stanley’s injured body.

 

“ ** _HEYA SIXER!  LONG TIME, NO SEE, BUDDY!”_**

 

One word was able to slip out of Ford’s petrified body, a word charged with thirty years worth of desperate pain and anger.

 

“Bill.”


	6. The Saddest Song

Ford was paralyzed.  _No, no, nonono.  This can’t be happening.  This can’t be real._ His breath hitched in his lungs, and it felt like ice was forming in his chest, squeezing his heart.  He was caught like a deer in the headlights under the yellow glare coming from his brothers eyes.

 

” ** _IN THE FLESH FORDSY!”_** Bill cackled through Stan. “ ** _WELL, NOT MY FLESH YET, BUT THIS IS BETTER THAN NOTHING.  ESPECIALLY SINCE YOU DECIDED TO BLOCK ALL MY CALLS.”_**   Bill awkwardly moved Stan’s broken arm and knocked the plaster cast against his head, hard. “ ** _TALK ABOUT RUDE.”_**

 

Blood stated to seep through the bandages around Stan’s head where Bill had banged the cast against it.  The sight of the crimson stain growing on the white bandages snapped Ford out of his stupor. “BILL!”  Ford yelled, his voice thick with fear and rage “Get out of my brother!”

 

” ** _AWW LOOK AT YOU FORDSY, PRETENDING TO BE A CARING BROTHER AFTER FORTY YEARS OF HATING OL’ STANLEY’S GUTS!  IT’S ADORABLE WATCHING YOU MEAT SACKS AND YOUR DELUSIONS OF LOVE AND ALL THAT JUNK!”_** Bills grin impossibly got wider, stretching Stanley’s face to the point that it made Ford’s cheeks hurt just looking at him.  “ ** _BUT HEY, IF YOU INSIST ON PRETENDING TO LOVE YOUR DUMB BROTHER, I’LL PLAY ALONG!”_** Bill twisted, swinging Stanley’s broken arm over to the one that was tied to the bed.  Before Ford could even process what Bill was doing, he grabbed Stan’s thumb and gave it a hard wrench.  A sickening ‘ _pop’_ echoed through the hospital room, and Bill slid Stan’s hand through the restraint with a loud, pleased laugh.  “ ** _OHH MAN!  I FORGOT HOW AMAZING IT FEELS TO DISLOCATE FINGERS!  I MEAN, A DISLOCATED ARM IS FUN AND ALL, BUT THERE’S JUST SOMETHING SO INTENSE ABOUT DISLOCATING SOMETHING SO SMALL!”_** Bill reached down and undid the restraints around Stan’s ankles, before throwing the thin hospital sheet and Mabel’s beautiful gift to the floor.  He swung around, hanging Stan’s legs off the side of the bed, and threw his arms out as best he could, tugging the IV lines taught.  “ ** _COME GIVE YOUR BROTHER A HUG SIXER!  WE BOTH KNOW YOU WANT TO!”_**

 

Ford took a step back, mind racing.  “This is a trick!  Enough of your games Cipher!  Leave me in peace!”  This was all a dream.  That was the only situation that made sense.  Ford must have fallen asleep in that chair, and left himself open, vulnerable to Cipher and his power over the Mindscape. That _had_ to be what was happening.  Ford knew that Stan would never fall for Bill’s tricks and flattery.

****

**_“OH HO HO, YOU WISH THIS WAS A TRICK SIXER!”_** Bill cackled   ** _“YOU WISH THAT THIS WAS JUST ONE OF YOUR NIGHTMARES!  BUT, NOPE, THIS IS 100 PERCENT,_** **_CERTIFIABLY REAL!”_** Bill waved Stan’s arms around, doing his best to aggravate Stan’s broken arm by banging it against his chest repeatedly.   ** _“Y’SEE, EVEN THOUGH HE ISN’T QUITE PRESENT, STANNY BOY’S MINDSCAPE IS VERY MUCH ACTIVE!  WELL,  IT’S AS ACTIVE AS AN IDIOT LIKE YOUR BROTHER’S CAN BE!”_**

 

“Don’t you dare!”  Ford roared, pointing a finger at Bill and taking a step forward.  Hot rage and icy fear were both swirling in Fords chest, making it difficult to decide what to do.  Part of him wanted to flee, and part of him wanted to fight.  But Ford was certain of one thing: whatever he did, he wasn’t going to leave Stanley.  “Don’t you _dare_ insult my brother!”

 

Bill waved Stanley’s right hand dismissively, making the dislocated thumb stick out at an awkward angle.  A small trickle of blood started to flow out from under Stanley’s bandages. **_“OH PUH-LEASE SMART GUY!  DON’T PRETEND THAT I’M NOT SAYING ANYTHING THAT YOU HAVEN’T THOUGHT!  I’VE SEEN EVERY INCH OF YOUR MIND STANFORD!  WE BOTH AGREE THAT STANLEY IS JUST A GOOD-FOR-NOTHING LYING BUM!”_**

 

“Shut up Bill!  Shut up and leave him alone, he’s hurt!”  Ford took another step towards Bill, hands held out in a placating gesture.  Over Stan’s shoulder, Ford caught sight of a small metal tray next to the bed, with a single needle filled with a clear drug, resting on it.  One of the doctors must have left it, in case Stanley had woken up violently again.  A vague plan, more like a snippet of one, started to form in Ford’s mind.  _Perhaps I could use that to expel Bill from Stanley’s body.  I just need to get around him with out Bill figuring out what I’m trying to do, or else who knows what he could try to do to Stanley._ _Let’s see if I can get him rambling.  Bill loves to talk about himself.  “_ Leave, before one of the doctors comes to see why his breathing tube disconnected.”  Ford knew it was a clumsy change in topic, but he had to try.

****

**_“PFFT, AS IF SIXER!”_** Bill didn’t seem to notice or care about Fords desperate conversation switch. ** _“I’VE BEEN TRYING TO GET AHOLD OF THIS BODY SINCE STANLEY BROKE HIS SKULL OPEN!  EVEN WHEN HE’S HALUCINATING ABOUT YOU TWO BEING ON THAT STUPID BOAT, STANLEY’S PRETTY CRAFTY!  A CONMAN AFTER MY OWN NONEXISTANT HEART, HE IS!”_** Bill’s voice was filled with mock pride as he spoke.  It made Ford sick to hear him talking about Stanley, _his_ Stanley, _his_ brother, _his_ twin, like he was some sort of prized protégée.   ** _“I’M INSULTED THAT YOU THINK I WOULD WASTE ALL OF THAT EFFORT TO GET HERE WITHOUT MAKING SURE THE MEAT SACKS THAT FIX BROKEN MEAT SACKS WERE OUT OF THE WAY!  NO ONE IS GOING TO BOTHER COMING AROUND HERE FOR AT LEAST AN HOUR AND A HALF.”_**   Bill’s grin shifted into something more taunting.  A spike of fear stabbed Ford in the heart.  _Oh no, what now? **“IN FACT I’M SO INSULTED, I THINK I MIGHT DO…THIS!!”**_ In one swift movement, Bill dislocated another one of Stan’s fingers, letting out another insane peal of laughter.

 

“STOP!”  Ford’s voice cracked as he screamed at Bill.  “Bill, please, please I’m begging you!”  He reached out to Stanley, taking another step forward.  Ford’s outstretched hand’s were mere inches away from Stanley’s wrists.  _Maybe if I go now, I could get to the sedative, and end this now!_

****

**_“REALLY?  THE HIGH AND MIGHTY DR. STANFORD FILBRICK PINES PhD TIMES TWELVE, BROUGHT SO LOW THAT HE’S BEGGING SOMEONE FOR SOMETHING?  I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE THE DAY!”_** Bill taunted   ** _“AND I NEVER THOUGHT YOUR DUMB BROTHER WOULD BE THE THING YOU’RE BEGGING FOR!”_** Bill laughed, smacking Stanley’s thigh with his broken arm as he did so.  The cast clunked as it hit the brace on Stanley’s leg, and Bill laughed harder at the pain  **_“THAT IS RICH I TELL YA FORDSY!  BUT HEY, SINCE YOU’RE BEGGING AND ALL, YOU MIGHT AS WELL DO IT PROPERLY!”_** Bill placed one of Stanley’s injured fingers on Fords forehead and gave a weak push.  Ford had no choice but to step back, further away from the demon wearing his brother’s skin and the syringe that could end the living hell Ford had to rescue Stan from.   ** _“WHY DON’T YOU TAKE A COUPLE OF STEPS BACK FORDSY?  GIVE US SOME SPACE, AND KNEEL FOR US SIXER!”_** Bill cackled.

 

Ford hesitated.  He couldn’t kneel to Cipher!  He needed to stay on his feet, needed to get to that sedative, before Bill tried to throw Stanley’s body down the stairs across the hall, or something even worse.  And even though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, a small part of Ford felt repulsed at the idea of showing any sort of subservience to the triangular demon, for any reason.  Ford was long past the days he thought Bill was worth any sort of praise.

Bills smile twisted sinisterly.   ** _“WELL, THAT’S A SHAME THAT IS.  YOU CAN’T EVEN BEG FOR YOUR OWN BROTHER’S LIFE PROPERLY!  BUT HEY, WE BOTH KNOW YOU DON’T REALLY LOVE THIS GUY SIXER! YOU JUST WANNA PLAY THE HERO LIKE ALWAYS, DON’T YOU?  BE THE BETTER BROTHER AGAIN, RIGHT?”_** Bill scoffed.   ** _“BUT REALLY, THIS GUY ISN’T WORTH YOUR PITY.  YOU CAN DROP THE ACT FORDSY, IT’S JUST US TWO OLD FRIENDS HERE!”_** Bill rolled his eyes in disdain and absently waved Stanley’s hand around, gesturing vaguely towards the ceiling with Stanley’s dislocated fingers. ** _“WELL, STAN IS FLOATING AROUND HERE TOO, BUT HE’S A LITTLE, ‘OUT OF ORDER’ AT THE MOMENT, IF YOU CATCH MY DRIFT.”_** Bill laughed, lower and more sinisterly than normal.  The demons words alarmed Ford.  What could he mean by that?  Bill reached over and grabbed another one of Stanley’s fingers.

 

Ford’s heart leapt straight into his throat, almost choking him as he desperately cried out to the demon “WAIT!”  Ford held his hands up and dropped to his knees, looking up at Bill.  “Wait.  Please, I’m kneeling Bill. I am kneeling and I am begging you to leave Stanley alone.”  Ford watched in trepidation as Bill eyed him with an unreadable look on Stanley’s face.  A familiar feeling of unease settled in Ford’s stomach.  He could remember the days when Stanley and him had been able to read each others faces like open books.  Ever since Ford had been brought home, that bond had been achingly absent ~~despite Ford’s attempts to ignore that feeling of loss~~ , but it was the times when he would look at Stanley and not be able to read anything off of him that Ford felt the absence of that connection the most.  This time was a thousand times worse than all the other times though.  “Please, just give me my brother back, Bill.”

 

Bill laughed. ** _“THIS IS PATHETIC SIXER!  YOU SOUND JUST LIKE STANLEY HERE DID WHEN WE MADE OUR DEAL LAST NIGHT.”_**

 

Ford blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

 

Bill groaned  **_“STAN’S MINDSCAPE HAS BEEN STUCK ON ONE PARTICULAR MEMORY SINCE HIS HILARIOUS LITTLE ACCIDENT.  SOME DUMB THING WITH THE TWO OF YOU ON THAT BEAT UP OLD BOAT.  HE KEPT IGNORING ME WHEN HE THOUGHT THE TWO OF YOU WERE STILL BUDDY-BUDDY, AND HIS MINDSCAPE IS SO MUDDLED THAT IT TOOK ME AWHILE TO DREDGE UP A DIFFERENT MEMORY TO STICK HIM IN.  BUT BOY, WAS IT WORTH IT!  IT TOOK BARELY A MINUTE BEFORE STANLEY WAS BEGGING ME ‘I WANT MY BROTHER BACK, PLEASE, JUST GIVE ME MY BROTHER BACK.”_** Bill mocked. “ ** _AND, AS A BONUS, THAT MADE HIM START FREAKING OUT OUT HERE.  NOW THAT WAS A GREAT SHOW!”_**

 

Ford gaped up at Bill.  “What memory did you-did you put Stanley in?”  Ford knew Stan had gone to jail before, and a vague memory having to do with the trunk of a car poked the corners of his brain.  He had no idea what could have been so bad, so terrible, to make Stanley react the way he did.

 

Bill smirked at Ford, leered at him down on the ground.  The blood running down Stanley’s face had increased, and had started to drip off of his chin.  The crimson droplets fell all the way down to the floor, landing on the blanket Mabel had knit.  The grey wool of the sailboat absorbed the blood, turning a murky, ugly color.   ** _“I JUST TOOK HIM BACK TO THE WORST NIGHT OF HIS LIFE FORDSY.”_** Bill said in a manner-of-fact tone.   ** _“THE NIGHT HE GOT KICKED OUT AND STARTED LIVING IN HIS CAR.”_**   Bill held Fords gaze for a moment, yellow against brown, before he wrenched Stanley’s finger backward.  There was a sickening  _‘snap’_ along with the horrible  _‘pop’,_ and Bill laughed hysterically as Ford cried out in desperation “STOP IT!”

****

**_“OH MAN OH MAN OH MAN, I THINK I BROKE THAT FINGER AND DISLOCATED IT AT THE SAME TIME!  I’VE NEVER DONE THAT BEFORE SIXER, NOT EVEN WITH YOU!”_** Bill wiped a mirthful tear off of Stanley’s face, smearing the blood from Stanley’s head wound.  He grabbed another one of Stanley’s fingers, smiling with cruel glee.

 

“PLEASE BILL, PLEASE!”  Ford screamed at the demon, tears filling his eyes again. His hands smacked the ground, fingers spread wide.  “LEAVE HIM ALONE!!”  Ford couldn’t look up at the demon anymore, couldn’t bare to see those yellow eyes in his brothers face.  He bowed his head, screwed his eyes shut, and tried to look as submissive as possible.  Ford clenched his teeth, holding back a sob.  He felt so _useless!_   The only reason Stanley was in this mess in the first place was because of Ford and his research and his stubborn pride.  Ford had to play along with Bill’s sick game until he could get the sedative, and hopefully that would work.  If he had to kneel and beg, he would kneel and he would beg.  For Stanley.

****

**_“HMM, YOU KNOW, THAT’S A REALLY CONVINCING ARGUMENT STANFORD.”_** Bills voice dripped with sarcasm.   ** _“I THINK I’M ACTUALLY GONNA LISTEN TO YOU AND LEAVE THIS WORTHLESS WASTE OF SPACE YOU CALL A BROTHER.”_** Ford’s hands clenched into fists on the ground as Bill insulted Stanley again, but he forced himself not to react.  There was a tense pause.  **_“HAHA, JUST KIDDING!  WE BOTH KNOW I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE UNTILL I GET WHAT I WANT FORDSY!”_** Bill said in a sing-song tone, swinging Stanley’s good leg back and forth to beat out a solemn rhythm on the side of the hospital bed.

 

“The Rift.”  Ford breathed out, eyes snapping open to stare at the hospital floor.  Of course that was what this was all about.  Bill was holding Stanley hostage in order to get the Rift.  Ford’s stomach dropped in despair.

****

**_“DING DING DING, YOU GOT IT IN ONE TRY!”_** Bill mockingly cheered, clapping Stanley’s injured hands together.  Ford felt nauseous when he saw the angles Stanley’s finger were bent at.   ** _“NOW, HERE’S WHAT WE’LL DO.  I’LL PLAY COMATOSE FOR A BIT WHILE YOU RUN HOME AND GET THE RIFT!  WE TRADE OFF, ONE TEAR IN THE VERY FABRIC OF SPACE FOR ONE USELESS BROKEN OLD MEAT-SACK, AND THEN WE’LL CALL IT A DAY!  HOW’S THAT SOUND FORDSY, DO WE HAVE A DEAL?”_** Bill offered Ford a handshake with Stanley’s mangled hand, a smug, self-confident grin on his stolen face.

 

“No.”  The word barely made it out of Ford’s mouth, but it still stung and burned his throat as he forced himself to say it.  “You can’t have the Rift.”  Ford knew he was condemning his brother to further torture, and every molecule he was comprised of protested.  But if Bill got the Rift, Stanley, as well as everyone else in Fords home dimension, would be as good as dead.  Ford knew he could force Bill out of his brother’s body, he knew that this was the right decision, the _only_ decision that could be made.  But that didn’t stop him from hating himself for it.

****

**_“HMM.”_** Bill hummed contemplatively, and Ford felt his heart stop and his blood run cold.  He had been expecting Bill to rage, and more than likely make Stanley suffer more.  Ford had been hoping that Bill would get so angry he could make a dash for the sedative.  Now, he froze to the ground, terrified of what Bill had planned for Stanley.   ** _“WELL THEN,”_** Bill pulled Stanley’s hand back and leaned closer to Ford.  Ford sat up higher, leaning back on his heels, his face less than a foot away from where Bill’s eyes shone out of Stanley’s face. **_“WHAT IF I SWEETEN THE DEAL?”_**

 

“What?”  Ford’s voice cracked as he spoke.  The knowing smile Bill had twisted onto his brothers face was unnerving, and his yellow eyes were _far too close._

****

**_“Y’SEE FORDSY, THE PHSICAL WORLD THAT YOU’RE PART OF TIES DIRECTLY INTO THE MINDSCAPE.  IT HAS A LOT MORE INFLUENCE ON MY DOMAIN THAN I’VE LET ON BEFORE.”_** Bill voice took on a tone that Ford remembered him using back when they were working on the Portal together.  It was candid, with a touch of condescension that had always slightly irked Ford back then, but he had ignored it in favor of learning from what he had considered a muse at the time.  Now, it sent unpleasant chills down Fords spine.   ** _“STANLEY TOOK A HUGE HIT TO THE HEAD, AND ALL THE TRAUMA TO HIS BRAIN HAS REALLY DONE A NUMBER ON HIS MINDSCAPE.  THAT, PLUS ALL THE DRUGS THAT ARE PUMPING INTO HIS FLESHY MEAT-SACK BODY,”_** Bill waved Stan’s arm, straining the IV lines further and causing blood to bubble up on Stanley’s arm where they were inserted.   ** _“LEAVES STANNY HERE A PRIME CANDIDATE FOR SOME MUCH NEEDED…REWIRING, YOU COULD CALL IT.”_** Bill gave Ford a sly grin.

 

Confusion swirled through Ford for a moment, before the full implications of what Bill was saying crashed down on Ford with the force of an asteroid careening through Earth’ s atmosphere and landing on him.  A small, choked gasp wheezed out of Ford.  Pure panic clouded his thoughts, turning them into a jumble of _not possible, can’t be true, need to save Stanley, what has he done,_ and leaving him frozen in place.  “You didn’t…” Ford coughed out, horrified at what he might hear.

****

**_“DON’T WORRY, I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING YET!”_** Bill said   ** _“I WOULD NEED TO MAKE A DEAL WITH SOMEONE TO HAVE ENOUGH POWER TO RESHAPE A HUMAN’S MIND AND PERSONALITY.”_** He smacked Stanley in the head with the cast again.   ** _“EVEN WHEN IT’S AS SCREWED UP AS THIS ONE IS.  SO!”_** Bill clapped Stanley’s hands together in excitement.   ** _“YOU HAND ME THE RIFT, I GIVE YOU A NEW-AND-IMPROVED TWIN!”_**

 

“…new-and-improved…”  Ford murmured numbly.  This was worse than he could have imagined.  Bill was in Stanley’s head, and worse than that, Bill could…he could… _alter Stanley’s mind and personality._ Bill could _rewrite_ the _core_ of his brothers being, his very _soul._

 

All he needed was someone to make a deal with him.

 

And Bill thought _Ford_ would want-would be the one to-his own _brother-_

****

**_“SOUNDS PRETTY GREAT, DOESN’T IT?”_** Bill said eagerly, leaning closer to Ford with a conspiratorial look on his face.   ** _“WHAT DO YOU WANT DONE?  YOU TWO ARE ALWAYS FIGHTING, SO I BET YOU’D LIKE HIM TO BE MORE SUBMISSIVE.  I CAN FIX HIS SENSE OF HUMOR TOO, MAKE IT MORE YOUR STYLE.  I CAN MAKE HIM LIKE THAT NERDY GAME YOU THINK IS SO GREAT.  AND I KNOW YOU HATE THE MYSTERY SHACK, SO WE CAN HAVE STANNY HERE SHUT THAT DOWN EASY-PEASY.  OH!  I CAN EVEN MAKE HIM SMARTER, BELIEVE IT OR NOT!”_** Bill leaned back, throwing Stanley’s arms wide and finally managing to rip the IV lines out of Stanley’s arm.  Blood spurted, landing all over the knit blanket on the floor.  Bill didn’t notice.   ** _“THE SKY IS THE LIMIT FORDSY!  YOU CAN MAKE THE TWIN BROTHER YOU ALWAYS WANTED!  WHADDAYA SAY?  DO WE HAVE A DEAL?”_** Bill held Stanley’s hand out to Ford again.

 

Stanley’s mangled hand hung in front of Ford’s face.  He looked at it, and his eyes trace up Stanley’s arm, past the fingers that were sticking out at odd angles, the blood that was dribbling down his arm and dripping onto the blanket, and Ford focused on Stanley’s face.  Not the lurid yellow eye’s with slit-like pupils, not the too wide, unnerving grin, but the ghost of a six-knuckled bruise on his jaw.  The bruise Stanley had gotten because he was stubborn, and unwilling to listen to reason, and loyal to a fault, and for some reason he though that Ford was worth more than an entire dimension.  The horror Ford had felt at Bill’s talk of _remaking_ Stanley ignited into rage.  Ford pushed himself off of his knees.

“No.”  This time he said it firmly, his voice stronger than it had been during the whole cursed conversation with Bill.

 

Bill looked affronted **_“NO?  YOU’RE TURNING DOWN AN OFFER LIKE THIS?  YOU GIVE ME ONE MEASLY TEAR IN THE FABRIC OF REALITY, AND I GIVE YOU THE PERFECT TWIN BROTHER, A ONCE IN A LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY, AND YOU’RE TELLING ME NO!?”_** Bill growled out the last word.

 

“I would never agree to doing something like _that_ to anybody, no matter the circumstances!”  Ford growled back, fists clenched at his sides.  “I’ll never hand the Rift over to you, and I’ll never take your deal for the ‘perfect twin’” He spat the words out like they were venom.  “All I want is to have my brother back!”

 

Bill was silent for a moment, then he let out a derisive snort and forced Stanley’s body to stand.  He swayed for a moment, distressing Ford, before he found his balance, standing with most of his weight on Stanley’s left leg.  Ford saw his chance to grab the sedative.  ** _“WRONG CHOICE SIXER.”_** Bill snarled.

 

Ford dove around Stanley’s right side, aiming to vault the bed, but Bill lifted Stanley’s broken arm, and Ford’s face collided with the hard plaster cast.  Ford reeled back, stunned, and Bill staggered, but managed to keep Stanley’s body upright.  Ford recovered first, diving onto the bed and reaching for the sedative.

****

**_“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?”_** Stanley’s cast clipped the side of Ford’s head, spinning him around.  His fingertips clipped the edge of the tray holding the sedative, tipping it over onto the bed.  A bony knee pressed down onto Ford’s stomach, and Ford instinctively curled his hand into a fist, pulled it back, and-

 

-he dropped the fist as quickly as he had made it.  _Don’t hurt Stanley!_ Ford put his hands again Stanley’s chest and started to push-

 

-until he felt the broken ribs.  He couldn’t do anything to defend himself without hurting Stanley!

****

**_“WHAT’S THE MATTER FORDSY? AFRAID OF HURTING YOUR IDIOT BROTHER?”_** Bill laughed over Ford, and reached for his throat with Stanley’s right hand.    ** _“HEY! THIS’LL MAKE A GREAT STORY FOR THE NEWS! ‘STAN PINES WAKES FROM COMA JUST TO MURDER HIS BROTHER AND JUMP OFF THE ROOF’!”_**   The dislocated and broken fingers meant Bill had to press the heel of Stanley’s hand against his wind pipe, forcing Ford’s head down and back, the top of it pressing into the mattress.

 

Ford struggled to breath, and already darkness started to encroach upon his vision.  Upside-down, Ford was able to see the syringe. Clumsily, with his sight dimming and everything starting to go fuzzy, Ford wrapped one hand around Stanley’s forearm, and with the other he snagged the syringe, miraculously without stabbing himself with the needle. 

 

With a strangled gasp, Ford plunged the needle into Stanley’s forearm.

 

For a moment, nothing happened.  Everything around Ford faded to a murky blur, with the bright yellow of Bill’s eyes staying vibrant.  The word’s _I’m sorry, Stanley_ echoed through Ford’s head.

 

Then, Stanley’s arm buckled.  Ford gasped, sucking in a desperate breath of air.  Above him, Bill was resting Stanley’s forearm on Ford’s chest, the syringe sticking out of it.  Ford could feel blood soak into his sweater.   ** _“WHAAT WAS THA SHTUFF?”_** Bill slurred, blinking and shaking Stanley’s head back and forth.  His yellow eyes got hazy and half-lidded, and Bill struggled to keep Stanley’s body upright.   ** _“YOU THINK THISH IS OVER SSHIXER? WON’ BELON’ FOR I’M BACK STANFERD.  GONNA MAKE ‘NOTHER DEEL SHOON, ‘NTHEN I’LL GET TH’ RIFT.  YER GONNA SLIP UP, N’ WHEN YA DO…”_** Bill struggled to say more, but Stanley’s body finally gave out, succumbing to the drug, collapsing on top of Ford. ** _“UU_ UGH**HHnnn…”  Bill gave a final groan, his voice fading out and Stanley’s deeper, more gravely voice filled Ford’s ears.  The yellow faded from Stanley’s eyes as they slid shut.

 

Ford lay on the bed for a moment, stunned and trying to catch his breath.  Stanley rested on top of him, unmoving.  With a sudden jolt, Ford remembered all of Stanley’s injuries, and his IV’s needed to be reinserted, and his breathing tube was- _Stanley’s breathing tube was out!_

As quickly as he could without being too rough on his brother’s battered body, Ford wormed out from underneath him.  Ford checked Stanley’s breathing quickly, and was relieved to find a trickle of air passing through his brother’s lips, though it was weak and irregular.  Ford felt bile rise in his throat as he redid the restraints around Stanley’s wrist and ankles, but he couldn’t let the hospital staff know what had really happened.  At best Ford could see them removing him from Stanley’s room, and at worst they would retain him on suspicions of mental instability.  Neither was a viable option.

 

Ford carefully relocated and set Stanley’s injured fingers, which were swelling and turning lurid shades of blue and purple and green.  Stanley’s arm was still bleeding, so Ford peeled his new sweater off and wadded it around Stanley’s arm.  Before leaving he retrieved the button-down from the bathroom and threw it on, only doing up a few buttons as he sped out of the hospital room.  Stanley was the only patient in the ICU, and there wasn’t a doctor or nurse in sight.

 

Ford skidded out of the ICU, swinging his trench coat on.  He made it down two more hallways before almost literally running into a pair of doctors.

 

After some shouting and overly excited arm waving, Ford was able to rush the doctors into Stanley’s room.  Luckily for Ford, his frantic behavior discouraged the doctors from asking too many questions.  While one doctor tended to Stanley, the other insisted on looking at Ford’s bruising face.  Not for the first time, Ford’s nose had been broken, although this was the first time Ford had been injured by Stanley’s hand.

 

At a request from Ford, the blanket and sweater Mabel had knit were taken and washed quickly.  He couldn’t bare to think of Mabel seeing that the gifts she had made for Stanley and him were missing.  One of the doctors, with the help of a nurse he had brought in, jury-rigged a restraint for Stanley’s broken arm.

 

After Ford was left alone with Stanley again, he collapsed into his chair.  Ford couldn’t take his eyes off of his brothers face, which was slack and relaxed now, a contrast to the manic grin Bill had forced onto his face.

 

Ford sighed, hanging his head.  _Bill had possessed Stanley._ It was something Ford hadn’t considered a possibility before, and now because of his short-sightedness, Bill had manipulated his brother, tormented him both physically and mentally. 

 

And then, there was the… _rewiring_ Bill had talked about.  Simply thinking about what Bill was suggesting made Ford feel terrified.  More than that, it made Ford feel completely _helpless._ Ford could protect Stanley physically- though he had already failed at that-but there was nothing Ford could do to protect Stanley in his own mind!

 

All Bill needed was a deal.

 

It didn’t matter who he made it with.

 

And Ford would lose his brother again, but this time, there would be no possible way to get him back.

 

“Oh Stanley, what are we going to do?”  Ford sighed.  Unsurprisingly, Stanley didn’t answer.

Ford stood and paced, trying to think of a plan, a course of action, anything!  But the only thoughts that filled his head were of Bill, poking around in Stanley’s mind, scrambling it, reshaping it, remaking his brother into someone he wasn’t, and the knowledge that Bill could be doing so _at that very moment_.  If there was any food in Ford’s stomach, it would have come up again.  He couldn’t _think,_ there were too many thoughts swirling through his head.  Ford longed for one of his Journals, just so he could have some way to organize his thoughts!  At the thought of his Journals, a small plan started to form.  He would have to work fast, and he needed to look through his Journals first, but maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance to fix things.  But first he needed to get his Journals, and he couldn’t wait till morning.

 

The door clicked open, and Ford whirled to face it.  A young nurse walked in, holding Stanley’s blanket and Ford’s sweater, freshly cleaned.  She started at Ford’s behavior, but she quickly relaxed and gave Ford a kind smile.  

 

“Here you go sir.”  She held the knit items out to Ford, and he snatched them out of her hands with a murmur of thanks.  Ford gently draped the blanket over Stanley, feeling a twinge of painful nostalgia when he saw the sailboat again.  He quickly turned back to the young nurse, catching her attention before she left.

 

“Excuse me, miss?  I need to use a phone.  And a phone book.”

 

The nurse lead Ford to the desk just outside of Stanley’s room.  Ford felt immediate unease leaving Stanley alone, but it was necessary.  

 

It took Ford far too long to find the number for the Ramirez household, and even longer for him to get the exhausted Soos on the other end of the line to give him the number of Wendy’s cellular phone.  Then it took him two tries before Wendy responded.

_“Whotheflipisthisit’soneinthemorningIhopeyouhavelifeinsurancecauseI’mgonnashankyouwhenI’mconsciousyouflamingpieceof-”_  

 

“Wendy, it’s Dr. Pines.”  Ford cut off her slurred, half-awake tirade.

_“It’s one in the morning.”_   Wendy said flatly.

 

“Yes, I am aware of that-”

_“Why’re you calling me at one in the morning old man?”_   Wendy growled into the phone, before giving a small gasp.   _“Did something else happen to Stan?”_

 

Ford hesitated briefly before answering “No, Stan is fine.  I need you to do me a favor.  It’s urgent.”

 

On the other end of the line, Ford heard Wendy shifting around.   _“Okay.  What do you need me to do at this ungodly hour Stan Two?”_

 

Ford blinked, mildly surprised at her quick cooperation.  He was about to request that she collect his Journals and bring them to him at the hospital, but he saw two looming flaws in that plan.  One, the time it would take for the Journals to get to him, and two, he would have to leave Stanley alone if he were to put his plan into action.  

_“Hey, Stan Two, are you still there?”_ Wendy’s voice brought Ford out of his reverie.

 

“Yes.  Wendy, I need you to listen to me, very carefully.  This could help Stanley’s recovery, but speed is of the essence.”  Ford carefully listed off everything he needed Wendy to do.  Occasionally, Wendy would have him repeat something, and Ford could hear the sound of something scratching against paper on the end of the phone. 

_“Is that everything Doc?”_ Wendy asked.

 

“Yes.  That should be all.”  Ford said, running through everything in his head.

_“Okay.  I’ll get started on all of this…weird junk you need me to do.  See you in a bit.”_

 

“Wendy?”  Ford stopped her from hanging up on him just yet.  “Thank you.  For helping me and my family with all of this.”

_“Yeah.  No prob, dude.”_ Wendy’s voice had a touch of concern to it.   _“Just hang in there.”_ She ended the call.

 

Ford returned to Stanley’s room, finally changing back into the sweater from Mabel.  It was still warm from the wash.  Then, he waited.

 

An hour passed.

 

Then two.

 

As the third hour passed, Ford was ready to tear the hospital room apart.

 

A knock came from the window, making Ford jump.  He stalked over to it, cautiously peeking through the curtains.  Wendy was perched outside of the hospital window.  The fourth floor hospital window.  Ford pulled the window open and Wendy slid inside.  Instead of her typical Corduroy family flannel, she had on a dark tank top with a wolf on it and shorts, and she had a backpack slung over her shoulders.

 

“What were you doing out there?”  Ford scolded her.  “You could have fallen to your death!”

 

Wendy swung the backpack off and started rummaging through it.  “Relax old man.  I’ve been climbing trees higher than that since I was eight.”

 

“I don’t doubt your skill Wendy.”  Ford said.  “I would just prefer that no one else ends up in the hospital anytime soon.”

 

“Oh.”  Wendy gave Ford an unreadable look.  “Sorry, Dr. Pines.  Visiting hours are closed right now.  That was the only way I could get in.”  She started to hand things to Ford; a small cloth sack with contents that clinked softly, several old mercury thermometers stolen from the Gravity Falls museum, photocopies of Journal 3 that Ford had found in his basement lab, a bottle of glue, a few tools Ford had picked up from other dimensions and, to Ford’s complete surprise, a small sandwich bag full of rainbow toned unicorn hair.

 

“How in the multiverse did you manage to get this?”  Ford stared at the unicorn hair in wonder.

 

“Fairy Dust.”  Wendy said shortly.  “I’ll give you the whole story tomorrow.  Or, y’know, when today feels like daytime.”

 

Ford winced apologetically.  “I’m sorry that I had to wake you at this hour.”

 

Wendy shrugged her backpack on. “Eh, it’s cool dude.  You’re just trying to help your brother.  I know the feeling.”  She gave him a small smile before slipping back out the window.  Ford watched her make it safely to the ground before setting to work.

 

It took him around twenty minutes to bury the moonstones and mercury in the linoleum floor with the tools he had gotten from Dimension Z#’m, and another fifteen to glue the unicorn hair around the whole room, going up and around the door frame.  It was far too much time.

Ford didn’t finish the barrier completely.  Right next to Stanley’s bed, down near the floor, there was a tiny gap.  Ford didn’t know if Bill was in Stanley’s mind or not, and he had to make sure that Stanley’s mind was free of the demon before he sealed the room.  Ford moved his chair close to the head of Stanley’s bed and rifled through the copies of his Journal.  With a satisfied hum, Ford found the page he was looking for.  The incantation that would allow him to enter his brothers mind.

 

Ford reached out to place his hand on Stanley’s forehead, but he hesitated.  What would he see in his brothers mind?  If Bill was to be believed, Stanley’s mind was currently in a state of disarray.  There was a chance that Ford could cause more damage in there than good.  And, if he was being honest, Ford dreaded finding out just what his brother thought of him.  Stanley must hate him by now.  But if Ford did nothing, than Bill could-he could-

_‘…MAKE ANOTHER DEAL SOON…YOU’LL SLIP UP AND WHEN YOU DO…NEW-AND-IMPROVED TWIN…MUCH NEEDED REWIRING…’_ Bills sinister words came back to Ford.  It didn’t matter if Stanley hated Ford, and Ford wouldn’t blame his brother at all if he never wanted to see him again after this.  Stanley needed Ford’s help, not for him to turn away again!

 

Ford took a deep breath and placed his hand on Stanley’s forehead, carefully minding the fresh bandages and stitches, and read the incantation.

 

“Videntus omnium. Magister mentium.

Magnesium ad hominem. Magnum opus.

Habeas corpus! Inceptus Nolanus overratus!

Magister mentium! Magister mentium! MAGISTER MENTIUM!”

 

Everything faded to white.


	7. Stood on a Hill

The first thing Ford noticed was the unusual cold.  Physical sensations didn’t technically exist in the Mindscape, they were all imagined, for lack of a better term.  It should have been impossible for there to be anything like a physical climate.  The hairs on the back of Ford’s neck prickled.

Another thing that set Ford’s nerves on end was the haziness of Stanley’s mindscape.  Everything was draped in a thick fog, thicker in some spots than in others.  A few small bits of light shone through the grey haze, vanishing when Ford tried to focus on them.  The thinnest patches only revealed blurry half images of what was in Stanley’s Mindscape, like Ford wasn’t wearing his glasses.  It made his eyes ache.

Ford peered through the fog, catching sight of a looming object in the distance.  It seemed like as good a place as any to start searching for Bill.  Ford moved forward, keeping his eyes fixed on the structure ahead of him in the swirling fog.  He couldn’t tell what it was, but in the pulsating blur Ford was afraid he would lose sight of it.

There was a muffled _clang_ as Fords head collided with something metal.  With a grunt he reeled back, whipping his attention in the direction of the object his head had just become acquainted with.  Ford reached out blindly into the fog, and his knuckles brushed the object.  He grabbed it, and a small patch of fog cleared around Ford and the object as he focused on it.

A swing set, both foreign and familiar to Ford, sat derelict in Stanley’s Mindscape.  The metal frame was rusted and twisted, bent as if a large weight had been trying to topple it.  One of the wooden seats was hanging by one rope, and even that one was worn and fraying.  The wood was split and rotting, eaten away by insects and the elements.  But even more jarring was the other seat.  It was in pristine condition; the ropes were strong and stiff, and the seat looked like it had a fresh coat of paint on it.

A small, sad sigh snuck its way out of Ford.  The noise was muffled, reaching Fords ears like it was coming to him underwater.  Nostalgia and sorrow nipped at him, but he pushed the distracting feelings away.  He had to find Bill, and time was wasting.  Ford walked briskly away from the swings, not looking back as the fog almost immediately swallowed them up again.  He concentrated for a moment and felt a weight form in his hand as an industrial flashlight appeared in it.

He turned it on, and although the flashlight did little to cut through the fog, Ford caught sight of something reflecting the light.  He moved toward it, and it wasn’t long before the toes of his boots collided with something.  The fog cleared around the structure, and Ford gaped at what he saw.  A twisted, grayscale version of the Mystery Shack.  The letters on the roof were hanging precariously, and as Ford watched one fell, crashing to the ground.  A large crack formed on the ground under it, and to Fords horror the crack crept up the wall of the Mystery Shack.  Bright light and muffled sound eked out of the crack for a moment, before fading away.  Ford caught sight of many other cracks, large and small, covering the walls and roof of the building.

His brothers Mindscape was barely holding itself together.  A burst of fear propelled Ford up the porch steps.  He had to hurry, before Bill followed through with his threat.  He hesitated briefly before shouldering through the front door, and Ford was taken aback by the confusing mess of doors, hallways, and staircases that filled the building.  More cracks lined the walls, and many of the staircases looked like they could come crashing down at any moment.  The inside was bigger than the outside, and Ford felt despair well up inside of him.  “How am I going to search this whole place?”  He murmured.  Ford took a breath and turned dashing up the nearest staircase.  _Best to start from the top.  I’ll improvise as I go._

The staircase was a dead end, leading out to empty air.  Ford bit back a curse as he spun on his heel, looking around for anywhere he could go.  A nearby staircase to his right caught his attention.  It led to a landing high above Fords head, with something glowing with a soft golden light at the top.  Ford briefly eyed the distance between where he stood and the other staircase, before climbing over the banister.  He jumped, keeping his eyes fixed on his chosen landing spot.

Ford crashed through the banister on the other stairs, the wood rotten and crumbling beneath him.  The whole staircase groaned and swayed, and Ford held his breath until it settled.  He didn’t know what would happen to him if he were to become injured in the Mindscape, but he intended to avoid finding out.  He scrambled up the stairs as soon as he was sure they were no longer in danger of collapsing.

With a groan, Ford sat next to the door at the top of the landing.  The banister had caught him in the stomach when he jumped, leaving a sore spot and winding him slightly.  He rested just a few seconds before pulling himself to his feet, turning his attention to the mysterious door.  The warm light gave off a wave of comfort, contrasting with the rest of Stanley’s Mindscape.  A sign above the door had the word **HOPES** painted on it.  _This would be an ideal target for Bill_ Ford thought, but he still hesitated before opening the door.  He was invading his brother’s privacy, looking into his thoughts like this.  But he had no other choice, so he quietly opened the door, holding his breath as to what he would see.

The Portal room, exactly as it was the night Ford returned to his home dimension, except this time Ford was an observer, the door he was watching through tucked over in the shadows by the emergency shut off keys.  The kids and Soos were standing in the corner, watching as Stanley picked himself up off the floor and moved toward the Ford that had just came out of the Portal.

“Finally! After all these long years of waiting, you're actually here! Brother!”  Stan’s arms were open wide, and this time Ford could hear the joy in his voice.  His stomach dropped when he thought of what happened next; the punch that would wipe the smile off of his brothers face, the arguing, the-

“You did it Stanley!”  The Ford in the false Portal room called out, and the smile on his face rivaled Stanley’s.  “I knew you could.”  The two brothers embraced, clinging tightly to each other.

“Stanford, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry fer everything.”  There was a crack in the false Stanley’s voice as he started to pull out of the hug, only for his brother to tighten his grip and pull him back.

“I know Stanley, I forgive you.”  The false Ford said.  “Thank you for bringing me ba-” Heart pounding in his throat, Ford slammed the door shut, then turned and dashed down the rotting staircase, leaving the reunion and the hug that had never happened behind him.  At least, he tried to.  The image of the heartfelt hug seemed to have burned itself into Fords mind, like the after image from a cameras flash.  One of the steps split under Fords boot, and he tumbled down the rest of the stairs.

Thirty years of instinct had Ford curling into a ball and rolling down the steps before his mind could even register what had happened.  The stairs ended and Ford skidded across the floor, crashing to a stop into a wall.  He lay there, stunned, his whole body starting to throb, but he barely felt it.  Ford clamped one hand over his eyes, scrubbing at them furiously.  _All he wanted was a little gratitude._ Ford thought as his stomach started to churn.  _If I had just done that, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place._

 ** _“OH MAN FORDSY, THAT WAS ENTERTAINING!  QUITE THE FALL.”_** Fords blood ran cold at the voice.  He sprang to his feet despite his bodies protests.  Bill was hovering over Fords head, glowing a sickening yellow in the shadows cast by the twisting labyrinth of Stanley’s Mindscape.

“Bill!”  Ford’s pulse pounded in his ears.  His voice still sounded muffled and warped, but Bills was as loud and clear as always.

 ** _“YEP, IT’S ME.”_** The demon swung his cane around one wrist.  **_“GOTTA SAY, I DIDN’T EXPECT TO SEE THE REAL YOU IN HERE SMART GUY.  BUT HEY, IF YOU THINK THIS CHUMP IS WORTH ALL THIS EFFORT, THAT’S YOUR PROBLEM BUDDY.”_**

“Leave my-” Ford started to say.

 ** _“LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE.”_**  Bill mocked, rolling his eye. ** _“GET OUT OF HIS HEAD.  BLAH, BLAH, BLAH.  SERIOUSLY SIXER, YOU’RE STARTING TO SOUND LIKE A BROKEN RECORD.”_** He straightened his bow tie.  **_“IT’S REALLY STARTING TO GET BORING.  AND ANYWAYS, I REALLY CAN’T HAVE YOU MESSING WITH ANYTHING IN HERE, SO”_** The demon snapped his fingers, and the floor beneath Fords feet vanished.  **_“SEE YA ‘ROUND SIXER!”_**

Ford shouted in distress as he fell, trying to find something to cling to, when he crashed through something solid and slammed into the hard ground.  The wind was knocked out of his lungs, and for a moment he lay in a puddle of dingy light, his lungs clenched tight.  With a small cough, air rushed back into him, and Ford got an elbow underneath him.  He propped himself up, looking at the hallway he was in as best he could.

The whole hall was shrouded in shadows, making it look longer than was.  Doors lined both sides, some with light peeking out from under them, some with windows in them.  Ford saw more cracks lining the walls, with grey light eking out and giving the whole hall a sick feeling.  He pushed himself to his feet, and one ankle almost buckled under him.  It didn’t feel like a break, just a sprain.  A bad one, but he could still walk.

 ** _“HAVE FUN IN THERE STANFORD!”_** Bill’s voice echoed from every door, making Ford jump.  The hole above him closed, plunging the hall into darkness.  The wavering light coming from some of the doors wasn’t enough for Ford to see by.  He limped forward, reaching out for one of the walls and running his hand along it to guide himself.  His hand ran over a doorjamb, and Ford stopped, turning toward the door he couldn’t see.

Ford’s hand curled into a fist, and dread curdled in his gut.  As much as he didn’t want to, Ford knew he had to open it.  He had to find Bill, and throw him out of Stanley’s mind.  Even though Ford had no clear plan on how he would do that at the moment.  He grit his teeth and pulled the door open.

Ford saw a tiny road-side diner, not one anywhere near Gravity Falls or anywhere Ford could recognize.  Two cars were parked outside, dirty little non-descript things, and the whole thing had a grainy filter over it.  As Ford watched one of the cars shook, violently.  It gave another lurch, and then one more before the trunk popped open and someone rolled out landing on his hands and knees, coughing and hacking.

Even through the stringy hair and the blood running down his chin, Ford could see it was a young Stanley, maybe twenty-five years old.  He spat, and in the light coming from the diner windows Ford saw two, maybe three bloody teeth bounce against the blacktop.  _‘…I had to chew my way out of the trunk of a car…’_

Stanley shot up on his knees, chest heaving, gaze darting around like a startled animal.  He reached up, shutting the trunk as quietly as he could and using it to pull himself to his feet.  Stanley stumbled into the woods, dropping to his knees twice and spitting blood as he went.  The scene went still for a moment, before the car shook and the scene restarted.  Ford shut the door before he could see anything more.

Ford went through every door in the hall, but he didn’t stay around long enough to watch every scene play out anymore.  He held the doors open just long enough to look for Bill before slamming them closed and moving on; but that didn’t stop Ford from seeing more than he wanted to.  Every scene behind every door had a corrupted look to them; like looking through dirty glass, or like there with almost invisible hairline fractures on Fords glasses.

It didn’t take long for Ford to realize that this hall didn’t hold Stanley’s memories.  One door had a scene with Ford and the kids sailing on Gravity Falls Lake while Stanley slowly sank in a tiny rowboat.  Another door led to a windy cliff, high above some lake.  One door sent chills up Fords spine; an image of Filbrick Pines, arms crossed disapprovingly and the light glinting off of his sunglasses.  As Ford limped out of the hallway and into the relatively brighter parts of Stanley’s Mindscape, he could see the sign over the doorway.  It had one word on it: **FEARS.**

Ford leaned over the railing in front of him, and caught sight of another hallway a few staircases down.  The sign above this hall read **MEMORIES.**   Scowling, Ford limped towards the nearest staircase leading down.  He hit three dead-ends and something wrapped around his ankles and tripped him half a dozen times, but eventually Ford stumbled into the memory hallway, sore and on-edge, but determined.  He fell into a routine after that, limping through each hall, poking his head into any door he found to look for Bill, and closing them as quickly as he could.

He could barely look at some memories he found, of Stan in prison, or trying to stay warm in his car on snowy nights, or lying sick on the floor in the Portal room with a fever, struggling to keep his eyes open.  But every now and then, Ford found a good memory, one that made a tiny seed of something warm grow in Fords stomach.  Stan singing karaoke with the kids, or taking a young Soos to get ice cream, or even just a few times when Stan fell asleep watching the T.V. with the kids curled up on either side of him.  Ford had to force himself to move along when he saw one of the happy memories.

After far too long spent searching, countless memories looked through, Ford was losing his patients.  With a growl, he punched the door he had just closed; a memory of Stanley getting paid for a tour with a goat kid of all things.  Pain bloomed in his knuckles.  _This isn’t working!_ He thought, crushing his rising panic with anger.  Ford needed something specific to look for, some idea of a memory Bill would- _That’s it!_ Ford snapped his fingers and set off down the hall as fast as he could.  If he could just find it, Ford knew what memory Bill was in: more likely than not, it would be the same memory where Bill had made his first deal with Stanley.  The night that Stanley was kicked out.

But Ford hadn’t seen any sign of that memory, or any memories from Glass Shard Beach for that matter.  Stanley must have hidden them somehow.  _Lying about his identity for thirty years must have caused Stanley to subconsciously hide those memories somewhere.  Perhaps there’s a hidden Portal room in here._ Ford believed he had seen a vending machine towards the beginning of Stanley’s Mindscape.

Ford limped to the exit of the Memory hall as fast as he could, but a crackling noise from behind caught his attention.  Ford whirled to see cracks spreading down the floor toward him, yellow light and chilling laughter leaking out.  His heart jumped into his throat as he lunged forward, diving out of the hall.  There was a loud _crunch_ as the **MEMORIES** sign was sent crashing down.  The laughter rose to deafening levels, before fading.  The crack stopped just outside of the memory hall, and the yellow light faded.  Ford looked around, and to his horror he saw more large cracks had formed all throughout Stanley’s Mindscape.

“No…”  Ford breathed out, his heart catching in his throat.  He stood frozen for a moment, before pivoting and dashing towards the front of the building- and twisting his bad ankle further.  His leg collapsed under him, sending Ford tumbling to the ground.  He skidded and his sight was swallowed by darkness as his head and one of his arms were sent dangling into the crack in the floor.  The sound of something whispery barely reached Fords ears from somewhere far below him.  Ford scrabbled, grabbing onto the edge of the crevice and pulling himself out.

He rolled over and tried to push himself to his feet, but pain shot up his ankle like a knife and Ford dropped back to the floor with a frustrated curse.  “No no no no no no no!”  He couldn’t walk, he couldn’t move, he _had_ to move, had to get down to the Portal room, had to- had to head down…Ford turned his attention back to the crevice he had almost fallen down, and stuck his head back into it, straining his ears for- _there!_ Just barely, Ford could make out faint voices.  He couldn’t tell who they were or what they were saying, but who else could it be?

Without a second thought, Ford dove headfirst into the crevice, his whole world swallowed by the yawning darkness.  As he fell, Ford clenched his eyes shut, focusing.  A weight appeared on Fords back, and he snapped his eyes open.  Everything was still dark, and for a moment Ford was afraid he had made a mistake, misjudged where the crevice lead, when light from below filled his sight and Ford saw the Portal room.  Ford reached up to the item he had imagined and pulled a cord.  The parachute opened, and Ford’s plunge was slowed.  He could see the Portal rising up to meet him, and Ford yanked on the cords, trying to steer away from the looming structure.

Ford crashed into the Portal, bouncing off of it and spiraling to the ground.  He hit the ground hard, his head cracking on it.  Ford lay stunned, everything spinning around him.  He dimly felt the parachute vanish as he lost focus on it.  Ford tried to rise, but he couldn’t see straight, his limbs didn’t want to work, his ears were ringing, and his head was pounding right along with his ankle, in time with his heartbeat.

Ford blinked rapidly, his sight starting to clear, and he looked around the Portal room.  Doors lined the wall, replacing most of the machinery that was normally there.  A shine of yellow and the murmur of voices caught his attention, and Ford tried again to stand.  He could barely make it to his knees, so Ford crawled slowly toward the light.  He could finally see straight again as he made it to the light source: a small door built into the side of the control console, where Stanley had been branded by Ford years ago.  It was barely cracked open, letting the light spill out.

Ford banged on the door, knocking it open.  The ringing in his ears had subsided enough for Ford to hear the voices within.

 ** _“C’MON KID, I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU OUT!”_** Bills voice stabbed at Fords ears.

“I, uh, I dunno…”  A small, childish voice responded.

Ford’s stomach dropped as he looked around.  It was a memory of the beach, but this one was different than all of the other memories he had found.  The colors were brighter, the sounds were crisper, and there wasn’t a sign of fog or corruption anywhere.  There was a gentle creaking coming from the swings as a young boy with a mop of brown hair and a red and white striped t-shirt gently swung back and forth.  Bill hovered a few feet over the swings, casting a sickening yellow light over everything.  Ford scrambled into the memory, hands and knees getting buried in sand as he tried and failed to push himself to his feet again.  Sand filled Fords mouth as he fell.

 ** _“DON’T YOU WANT TO MAKE YOUR BROTHER HAPPY?”_** Bill said, holding his hand out.  Blue flames ignited with a soft _fwoom. **“JUST SHAKE MY HAND STANLEY, AND I CAN MAKE YOU THE PERFECT BROTHER.  STANFORD’LL NEVER WANT TO GET RID OF YOU AGAIN!”**_

The boy stood, kicking at the sand.  “You sure tha-”

“STOP!”  Ford coughed out, spitting sand and gagging.  “Stan-stanley. Don’t listen to him!”  Ford scrambled across the beach clumsily, moving in starts and stops and flops, like a starfish with two legs missing.

“Stanford?”  Stanley squeaked, turning to look at Ford.  “What’r you doin’ here?”

 ** _“GREAT, LOOK WHO SHOWED UP.”_** Bill rolled his eye.  The flames around his fist fizzled out. **_“CAPTAIN BUZZKILL.  FORGET HIM KID, WE’VE GOT A DEAL TO-”_**

“Yer hurt!”  Stanley ducked around the swing and dashed toward Ford, kicking up wings of sand under his sneakers.  “What happened to ya Sixer?”  Stanley had almost reached Ford when the sand between the brothers exploded upwards and Bill rose out of the crater that had formed.

 ** _“WHOA THERE STANNY, LETS NOT BE HASTY HERE.”_** Bill hovered close to Stanley, looping a thin arm over his shoulders.  **_“WE WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF-HEY!”_** Stanley tore himself away from the demon, skidding around the crater precariously and dropping to his knees in front of Ford.

“Stanley!”  Ford gasped, grabbing his brother’s small shoulders and pulling him to his chest.  Stanley gave a small squeak.  Ford held him out at arm’s length to look him in the eye.  “Did you shake his hand?  Did you make a deal?  Did-”

“No!  No, I didn’t, I- Ford your bleeding!”  Stanley pulled the hem of his shirt up and tore a long strip off of it with his teeth.  He reached up and tied it around Fords forehead with the practiced ease of someone much older than twelve.

“Stanley, listen to me, listen-” Ford wrapped his hands around Stanley’s.  “You can’t trust Bill, don’t shake his hand, don’t make any deals, we have to make him lea-” a grainy tentacle of sand wrapped around Ford’s mouth and yanked him up into the air.

“Stanford!”  Stanley cried out, jumping and reaching for his brother, his fingertips barely smacking the bottoms of Fords boots.  Ford clawed at the sand, but it just flowed around his fingers.  He struggled to breathe as the sand wrapped around the lower half of his head and shoulders.  Ford tried to yell at Stanley to run, but the sand filled his mouth, and Ford gagged on it.

 ** _“HEY, I DON’T LIKE BEING_** ** _I G N O R E D!”_** Bill shouted, briefly lighting up red as his voice warped.

Stanley whirled to face him, shifting into a boxing stance and placing himself squarely between Bill and Ford.  “Let my brother go, ya geometric nightmare!”

Ford felt panic spark in him.  _‘Don’t fight him!  Please Stanley don’t try to fight Bill!  Just run!  Run!’_ Ford thought, trying to scream at his brother but just choking on more sand.

Bill straightened his hat, scowling, and faded back to yellow.  **_“C’MON STAN, YOU ARENT GONNA FALL FOR THIS AGAIN, ARE YOU?  YOUR BROTHER SHOWS UP AND YOU JUST BLINDLY GO ALONG WITH EVERY LITTLE THING HE SAYS?”_** Bill scoffs disgustedly.  **_“I’VE BEEN IN YOUR BROTHERS HEAD.  HE DOESN’T WANT YOU AROUND.  ISN’T HE KICKING YOU OUT AFTER ALL YOU’VE DONE FOR HIM?”_** Stanley deflated a little at Bills words, his shoulders drooping and his gaze falling to the ground.  **_“BUT I CAN MAKE YOU INTO SOMEONE HE WANTS AROUND STANLEY.”_** Bills voice turned almost soothing, but with a sly bite to it.

Ford grunted, kicking his legs and trying to get his brothers attention.  Stanley turned, looking between Ford and Bill.  His face was screwed up tight, a look Ford recognized as his brother struggling to hold back tears.  Fords heart dropped at the sight.  “Yeah, ya said-said that already.”  Stanley’s voice wavered.

 ** _“WELL THEN, WHATS THE PROBLEM?”_** Bill said, barely holding back the annoyance in his voice.  He held out a hand drenched in blue flame.  **_“SHAKE MY HAND AND LET’S START REMODELING!”_**

Stanley eyed Bills hand, silently staring at the flickering blue flames. Then, slowly, his hand moved from his side.

Ford tried to scream around the sand again, and he was able to get a strangled moan out.  Stanley looked over his shoulder up at Ford with a sad, pained look on his face.  He turned back to Bill, and Ford’s struggles increased as Stanley moved his hand to shake Bills.  He _had_ to stop this, he _had_ to do something, anything, he had to-to-

There was _nothing_ Ford could do.  His pulse thundered in his ears, and the sand squeezed his head.  A pained groan escaped him, and Stanley froze, his hand mere inches away from Bills. His hand drifted down slightly, and Bill snapped at him, **_“WHAT NOW?”_**

“I just-just…”  Stanley stuttered, before throwing his shoulders back defiantly.  “What do you get outta all this?”

 ** _“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”_** Bill said, his voice taking on a more reserved, neutral tone.  The sand loosened around Fords face slightly, but he was still struggling to breathe through all the sand, and the lack of oxygen was starting to make Ford feel lightheaded.  If he passed out in the Mindscape, would he be ejected out into the real world?

“I _mean,_ ” Stanley took a small step back, lowering his hand back to his side.  “What do you get if I shake yer hand?   Ya want me to make this deal so that you can get somethin’.  What is it?”

 ** _“WHY DO YOU CARE?  I’M TRYING TO GIVE YOU EVERYTHING YOU WANT IN LIFE!”_** Bill threw his arms wide in exasperation.  **_“YOU CAN FINALLY BE SOMEONE THAT’S WORTH SOMETHING, INSTEAD OF JUST BEING THE FAMILY SCREW-UP! YOU COULD BE SUCCESSFUL, RICH, FAMOUS!  I COULD EVEN MAKE YOU THE SMARTER TWIN!”_** Bill twirled his cane, and shrewd light coming to his eye.  **_“ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU WANT?”_**

“No!”  Stanley cried, his voice cracking.  “I don’t want any’a that stuff!  I just want my brother back!  That’s all I’ve wanted fer forty years!”  Ford could hear the pain in Stanley’s voice.  “Jus’ let’m go.”

 ** _“IS THAT ALL YOU PINSES TALK ABOUT?”_** Bill groaned, rolling his eye.  Then, he got a sly look to him, side-eyeing Stanley.  **_“TELL YOU WHAT STAN.  I’LL CUT YOU A DEAL,”_** Bill floated over to Ford, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and flicked his nose.  **_“I’LL LET SIXER HERE GO, AND YOU GIVE ME A LITTLE SOMETHING.”_** If Bill had a mouth he would be grinning.

Stanley’s gaze darted over to Ford.  Ford shook his head, trying to push the message to Stanley with his eyes _‘Don’t do it!  Don’t sacrifice yourself for me, I’ll be fine! Please!’_ Ford couldn’t read the look his brother gave him back.

“What would I be giving you?”

Bill drifted closer to Stanley.  **_“THE PERFECT HOST.”_** He poked Stanley’s nose.  **_“SOMEONE COMPLETELY OBEDIENT, ALWAYS READY TO BE A VESSEL FOR ME, SOMEONE WHO WILL GO ANYWHERE, DO ANYTHING I SAY, EVEN WHEN I’M NOT DRIVING YOUR MEATSACK AROUND.”_**

Terror shot through Ford, and he saw the same emotion contort Stanley’s features as he took a skittish step away from the demon, and got just a bit too close to the crater in the sand.  “That’s what you were going to do the whole time.”  Stanley quietly stated.  Ford thrashed violently against the sand restraining him.

 ** _“SO I WASN’T EXACTLY GOING TO MAKE YOU THE PERFECT BROTHER.”_** Bill shrugged.  **_“BUT TELL ME HONESTLY, DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT FORD EVEN DESERVES A BROTHER WHO’D DO ANYTHING FOR HIM AFTER EVERYTHING HE’S PUT YOU THROUGH?  AFTER ALL THE TIMES HE’S TREATED YOU LIKE DIRT?”_** Bill snapped his fingers and the beach vanished.

Ford dropped to the ground as the sand vanished, landing on his hands and knees on hard linoleum.  He tried to stand, but his hands had sunk into the floor, halfway to his wrists, holding him down.  His whole mouth and throat felt numb; Ford couldn’t as much as grunt.  The two brothers looked around the room they were now in; it was just outside the principal’s office at Glass Shard Beach High School, but it was hazy and grayscale.  The clearest part of the memory was another version of Stanley, a teenager with his ear pressed to the office door.

 _“That clown? At this rate he'll be lucky to graduate high school.”_ The principal’s voice came through the old door loud and clear. _“Look, there's a saltwater taffy store on the dock. And somebody's gotta get paid to scrape the barnacles off of it.”_ The child Stanley tried to look away from the memory, but Bill held him by his shoulders. _“Stanford's goin' places. But hey, look on the bright side: at least you'll have one son here in New Jersey forever.”_   The teenaged Stanley slid down the door, knees curled to his chest and a scrunched look on his face like he was holding back tears.

 ** _“YOU STUCK UP FOR HIM YOUR ENTIRE LIVES, BUT WHEN YOU NEEDED IT-”_** Bill snapped his fingers, the memory shifted again, and the demon and the brothers were in the road in front of Pines Pawns.

Everything but the building, the road in front of it, and Stanley’s car were fractured, like the world was being viewed through a shattered, dirty window.  _“High six?”_ The forlorn plea echoed through the memory.  Ford was struck by just how painfully young Stanley was that night.  He was just a child then.

Bill snapped again.  A terrified Stanley ran out of a grocery store being chased by security, dropping shoplifted food behind him and leaping into his car empty handed.

**_“HE-”_ **

_Snap._ A fistfight in a prison yard, five convicts ganging up on Stanley as the guards pretended not to see anything.

**_“WASN’T-”_ **

_Snap._   Snow falling thick and fast in an alley where Stanley was hunched over a meager trashcan fire, his car nowhere in sight.

**_“THERE-”_ **

_Snap._ Men shoving a bound Stanley into a trunk as he yelled in Spanish.  The trunk slammed shut with the finality of a tomb.

**_“FOR-”_ **

_Snap._ Ford saw himself slam his foot into Stanley’s stomach, pushing him into the burning hot brand.

**_“Y O U !”_ **

_Snap._ Two old men stood in front of a mirror.  _“You give me my house back, you give me my name back, and this Mystery Shack junk is over forever. You got it?”_

 _“STOP IT!!!”_ Stanley screamed, knotting his fists into his hair and pulling at it.  As he spoke there was a shift and the beach reappeared.  Stanley collapsed to his knees, tears flowing down his cheeks in streams.  To Ford’s horror, small cracks were forming on Stanley’s scalp under his fingers and creeping out from his hairline, spreading down his forehead.

With a jolt, Ford found that he was free to move and speak again.  “Stanley…”  He wheezed, reaching a hand out to his brother.  Over Stanley’s shoulder, Ford saw Bill point in his direction.  Every part of his body froze and lost feeling; Ford couldn’t even move his eyes.  On the fringes of his vision Ford could see that his outstretched arm had taken on a metallic texture with a golden sheen.

Bill drifted closer to Stanley and started to gently stroke the crying child’s hair.  **_“IT HURTS, DOESN’T IT STANLEY?  ALL THE REJECTION, ALL OF THE HEARTACHE.  FORTY YEARS OF YOUR LIFE WASTED ON A FAMILY THAT DOESN’T CARE AND A BROTHER THAT DOESN’T WANT YOU.”_** Bill rests his hand on Stanley’s head, one finger poking at on of the cracks at his hairline, making it grow.  **_“IT MAKES YOU WANT TO DIE, DOESN’T IT?”_**

Ford wanted to scream as Stanley gave an almost unperceivable nod.

 ** _“BUT Y’KNOW STANLEY, I CAN HELP WITH THAT.”_** Bill drifted lower, almost touching the sand.  **_“IF YOU TAKE MY DEAL, BECOME MY SERVANT, LET ME REMAKE YOU, YOU’LL NEVER BE HURT AGAIN.  YOU’LL NEVER FEEL ANYTHING EVER AGAIN.”_** Stanley scrubbed at his damp cheeks and looked at Bill with wide red eyes.  **_“JUST SHAKE MY HAND KID.”_** Bill held his burning hand out to Stanley, the flames almost licking at the boy’s tangled bangs.

“I-I don’t wanna hurt anymore.”  Stanley whimpered, staring transfixed at the blue fire.  “I’m just…tired.  I wanna rest.”  He sounded old, and Ford remembered that despite his appearance his brother wasn’t actually twelve.  Stanley rubbed his hands together, a tick Ford remembered from their childhood that meant he was about shoplift or pickpocket and was psyching himself up for the task.

Ford felt all of his feelings whither inside of him.  Stanley was going to do it.  He was going to take Bills deal.  And Ford was an immobile metal _shell._ There had to be _something_ Ford could do.  Just because Bill was the master of the Mindscape didn’t mean that a person couldn’t fight his power.  Ford let his sight unfocus, the closest he could come to closing his eyes in his frozen state.  He missed the agonized look Stanley sent him as Ford focused every ounce of his energy.

There was a sound like a thin icy skin on top of a puddle being stomped on as the gold around him cracked and fell off.  “St-stop!  Stanley, please, don’t do this.”  Ford pleaded with his brother.

Bill shot a dirty look at Ford, and with a snap of his fingers Ford started to sink into the sand.  In less than three seconds the sand was past Ford’s waist and rising.

“Sixer?”  Stanley tore his gaze away from the blue flames in Bills hand.

Ford clawed at the sand.  “Stanley, don’t listen to Bill!  Please, please don’t shake his hand!”  He had sunk to his armpits.  “I know you’ve been hurt, but you can’t just throw yourself away!  I can’t lose you again!”  Fords head slid below the sand, he couldn’t breathe, he was being crushed from everywhere all at once.  _‘If I die here, what happens to me?  What will happen to Stanley?’_ Ford weakly clawed at the surface with the one hand that was still above ground, in a last desperate attempt to free himself.

Two hands wrapped around Fords and pulled, dragging him to the surface with more strength than their small size could possibly have.  Ford retched, spraying sand as his head broke free into the air.  He reached under his glasses and scrubbed the grainy particles out of his eyes with his free hand.

“I gotcha Sixer!  Yer gonna be fine, just breathe, alright?”  Stanley panted, teeth grit as he pulled Ford to safety.

 ** _“YOU LITTLE BRAT!”_** Bill was lit up red, and his eye blazed black.  He rose up into the air, red lighting sparking out of his hands and blasting the memory apart.  Ford pulled Stanley close to him as the ground disintegrated under them, and Stanley clung to his sweater like a burr as the two brothers found themselves floating in a blue-grey void.  Bits of Stanley’s memories and Mindscape floated around them, and there were cracks torn in the empty space, spilling yellow light everywhere.

Bill hovered above the brothers in front of the two largest cracks. They formed a pulsing yellow ‘X’ behind the enraged demon. **_“YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFY ME STANLEY PINES?!  I AM A BEING OF POWER THAT YOU CAN’T BEGIN TO COMPREHEND!”_**  Bill gestured, and the floating debris started to swirl around Ford and Stanley in a vortex.  Wind tore at the brother’s clothes and hair, and small bits of debris started to pelt them from every side.  Something slammed into Ford from behind, sending him spinning.  Stanley slipped out of his brother’s grasp with a small scream.

“Stanford!”  Stanley’s panicked cry rang throughout the storm as he kicked his legs and reached for his brother, his fingers just barely brushing the cuff of Fords coat sleeve.  A part of one of the letters from the Mystery Shack sign spiraled out of nowhere and crashed into Stanley’s head.  The boy went limp.

“ _Stanley!”_  Ford stretched out, just barely managing to snag his brothers wrist when something from behind knocked him closer.  He cupped his brother’s face in one hand, while the other held a tight grip on Stanley’s arm.  “Stan-oh, oh _no_.”  One of the cracks on Stanley’s head had grown from a small thing peeking out from under his bangs to a large, jagged scar, branching across his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, and slicing down his temple, surrounding his right eye.  A soft, pale blue light pulsed out of the crack in time with Stanley’s heartbeat.

There was a flash out of the corner of Fords eye; a large terrarium flying towards them.  Ford curled himself around his brother tightly, shielding him as it clipped his feet, spinning him again and sending a burning, jagged lance up his hurt ankle, eliciting a curse.  Ford felt Stanley squirm slightly in his arms as their spinning slowed.  “Stanley?”  Ford gasped, leaning his brother’s head back far enough to look at his face.  “Stan, can you hear me?!”  He shouted hysterically.

One of Stanley’s eyes dazedly blinked open, “…stanford…’r ya okay?”

Ford gaped “Am _I_ okay?”

“Yeah,” Stanley somehow managed to crack a smile, and opened both of his eyes.  The right one had turned a pale blue color. “Tha’s what I ju- LOOK OUT!”

Ford looked over his shoulder to see the Stanleymobile hurtling towards them.  He tucked Stanley close to his chest, closing his eyes and bracing for the moment the car would slam into him.

Silence abruptly fell as the vortex vanished and everything froze where it was.  Ford uncoiled slightly in shock, and he released a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding when he turned his head and saw the El Diablo frozen less than a foot away from him.  “What?”  Stanley was looking around in awe at the sight.

 ** _“WHAT?”_** Bill screamed piercingly.  **_“WHY YOU LITTLE-”_** He snapped his fingers and Ford felt his stomach fly up into his throat as gravity suddenly took hold of the two brothers and they plunged down into the void.  Ford clamped his eyes shut.  He felt Stanley tighten his grip on the front of his sweater briefly before one hand let go.

They stopped falling.  Ford opened his eyes, and saw that everything had stilled once again.  Stanley was curled tightly against Ford, eyes screwed shut, with one arm held out, fingers splayed.  He uncurled, looked around at everything frozen around them, and to Fords confusion Stanley gives him an excited gap-toothed smile.

Bill drifted over to the brothers, blowing debris out of his way.  **_“YOU REALLY THINK THAT YOU CAN FIGHT ME OFF?  JUST LIKE THAT?”_**

Ford wrapped his arms tighter around Stanley, ignoring his protesting moans.  “What are you talking about Cipher?”

 ** _“NOT YOU SMART GUY.  YOUR DUMB BROTHER!”_** Bill jabbed at Stanley with his cane, barely missing hitting him in the head.  **_“DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN BEAT ME?  HERE?  I’M THE MASTER OF THE MINDSCAPE!”_**

Ford was about to snap at the demon when Stanley spoke.  “Oh yeah?  Well this is _my_ mind buddy!”  He made a punching motion, and a huge boxing glove materialized and careened into Bills eye like a rocket.  The demon was knocked backwards, tumbling through the void and toward one of the pulsing yellow cracks.  It flared brighter, and Bills form seemed to warp, bending towards it.

“Stanley, hit him again!”

“You got it brother!”  He pulled his arm back and swung it again. “Left hook!”  The glove reappeared, streaking towards Bill.

 ** _“NO!”_** Bill screamed as the light burned almost white and pulled him into the crack.  He planted his arms and legs and resisted the pull, his thin body bending and pointing into the light.  **_“IF I’M GOING OUT THEN YOU’RE COMING WITH ME!”_** Two more arms sprouted from Bills sides and shot towards the brothers.

Stanley wound up another punch, but Ford could see Bill’s arms were moving too fast.  Ford tossed his brother upward as he swung, and Stanley gave a small startled shriek.  Bills thin arms wrapped tight around Fords waist just as Stanley’s third punch loosened the demons grip and sent him careening through the crack, screaming in rage and dragging Ford along with him.  He pried at the arms but they were like steel cables.

“ _STANFORD!”_ Ford looked over his shoulder as he was pulled through the void and saw Stanley drifting upwards, spinning slightly.  He was reaching for Ford, kicking his legs and trying to swim to him through the empty space.

Ford reached back with one arm, still trying to pry Bills arms off of him with the other.  “ _STANL-”_

He was swallowed by the yellow light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the last chapter I have written right now, so it's going to take me longer to update this time.


	8. All My Accomplishments

Ford was spiraling through yellow nothingness.  He felt like he was being compressed down to a singularity somewhere around his middle before he suddenly expanded and slammed into the ground.  His lungs were paralyzed by the impact for a moment before he gave a small cough and started breathing again.  Ford looked up and around him; he was in a field surrounded by tall grass.  He pushed himself to his feet and saw the wreckage of the Portal looming over him.

Ford was in his own Mindscape.  As was Bill.  The demon hovered high above Ford, scowling with his single eye.  **_“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT WAS FOR ME TO GET THROUGH YOUR BROTHERS THICK SKULL?”_** He raged, floating back and forth in the air like he was pacing **_“I HAD TO FIND A WHOLE NEW MEMORY TO WORK IN, I HAD TO WAIT FOR STANLEYS CONSCIOUSNESS TO GATHER, AND I STILL HADTO HECKLE A DUMB KID!  DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH ENERGY THAT ALL TAKES?  AND OF COURSE, YOU HAD TO SHOW UP AND RUIN EVERYTHING!”_** Bill pointed at Ford, energy sparking off of his finger.  **_“DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU COST ME STANFORD PINES?”_**

Ford stood on his good leg with his shoulders back, matching the demon glare for glare.  “I don’t really care what you lost Cipher!  My brother is safe from you and your plans, and as long as I’m alive you will never harm him or the rest of my family!”  He swept his arm through the air.

Bill lit up red.  **_“YOU THINK THIS IS OVER?  YOUR FAMILY IS ANYTHING BUT SAFE!”_** The field around Ford exploded in flames, bathing him in intense heat.  The fires reached higher than Fords head, and smoke swirled through the sky.  Bills glowing form cut through the haze.  **_“WHEN I BREAK THROUGH TO YOUR DIMENSION YOU AND YOUR FAMILY WILL BE THE FIRST TO SUFFER!”_** Faces appeared in the flames, screaming with the voices of Stanley and Dipper and Mabel and even Soos and Wendy.  **_“YOU’RE GOING TO WATCH EVERYTHING YOU LOVE BURN, AND THEN YOU ARE GOING TO FOLLOW!”_** The walls of fire rose higher and higher, swirling closer and encasing Ford before collapsing in on him.

Everything became bright and burning hot for an instant, before Ford jolted awake in the hospital room, heart pounding.  He tipped forward out of the chair and landed on the floor, shaking his head to clear the fog left from leaving the Mindscape.  Ford pushed himself to his knees, rubbing his brow and grimacing as a headache started to bloom behind his eyes.  A rainbow-colored shine near the floor caught his attention; the gap in the barrier he had to seal.

With a small gasp Ford pounced forward, fumbling with the glue bottle and almost sending it skittering under Stanley’s bed.  He smeared the glue on the wall and closed the barrier.  The walls gained an iridescent sheen and symbols glowed brightly for a moment before fading away.  Ford breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the side of his brother’s bed and scrubbing at his eyes tiredly.

A middle aged nurse poked her head in.  “Oh, you’re up!  Is everything alright in here?”

Ford pushed himself to his feet.  There was a small twinge in his ankle, but it was more of the memory of an old ache than it was an injury.  “Ah, yes, everything is fine.  I just…fell.”  Light streaming in through the window bounced off of the television screen and into the corner of Fords eye.  “Could you tell me what the time is?”  The sun looked higher in the sky than he had expected.

“It’s just about ten forty-five.”  The nurse checked her watch.

Ford gained a small scowl.  “Has my family stopped by?”

She gave a soft chuckle.  “Yes, but when they saw you sleeping they didn’t want to wake you.  Your niece seemed to think you were rather adorable, she took a picture and said something about a scrapbook.  They asked me to tell you that they would be back this evening when you woke up.”  Her smile turned sympathetic.  “Is there anything I can get you?”

“No, I’m fine.  Thank you.”  Ford waited for the nurse to leave before he settled back into his chair.  His head was pounding painfully as he looked over at his brother.  The blood beading at the corner of Stanley’s right eye like tears sent a jolt through Ford.  He snatched the box of tissues off of the bedside table and gently dabbed it away.

Even with the barrier up, Ford didn’t feel his brother was out of danger.  Bill’s threats still rang loudly in his ears, and Ford couldn’t forget the state his brother’s mind had been in.  Or the state Stanley had been in when Bill had dragged Ford away.  He knew he should leave it be, let his brothers mind rest and heal itself, but Ford couldn’t get the image of Stanley literally breaking apart out of his head.

Ford wouldn’t stand by idly, not when he was able to see for himself if there was anything he could do for his brother.  He settled back into the chair and took a small steadying breath before reciting the incantation and entering Stanley’s Mindscape once again.

It was the same as earlier; thick swirling fog obscuring everything and the odd chill settling into Fords bones.  To his relief the injuries he had sustained last time didn’t manifest, and he had left his headache in the physical world as well.  Ford strode forward, bracing himself for the sight of the warped Mystery Shack, promptly banging his head on the swings again.

Biting back several curses, Ford glared at the swings.  They hadn’t changed at all as far as he could tell, but they indicated that he was heading in the right direction.  He moved further through the fog, quickly coming across the Mystery Shack. It was still in shambles, but Ford thought it looked slightly more stable than before.  The cracks that had formed had a weathered, aged look to them now, and there was no longer any light spilling out of them.

The door gave a loud creak as Ford opened it.  Inside was a pitch black wall of darkness.  Ford stepped in, and a heavy fog settled over his ears.  He left the door open, a dim gray rectangle in the blackness serving as the only landmark Ford had to go by.  He summoned up a flashlight, the biggest and brightest he could think of.  It did nothing to cut through the darkness.  Ford placed one hand on the wall with a small scowl, using it to guide him.  There was a loud slam as the door swung shut, leaving Ford in complete darkness.

He focused and felt the flashlight morph into a long walking stick, and Ford started probing the ground in front of him as he slowly walked forward.  Ford’s scowl deepened; he felt like a blind man, slowly hobbling around.  And he felt fairly ridiculous searching a labyrinth of staircases and hallways looking for a _vending machine_ of all things.

Ford turned a corner and his walking stick _clunked_ against something.  He reached out and felt the large object, smooth metal and cool glass and thankfully an electronic button pad.  The vending machine.  It took Ford three tries to punch the code in correctly in the dark, and the vending machine swung open quickly and smoothly, knocking him backward.

There was the faintest bit of light coming from the hidden basement, just enough to turn the pure darkness a slightly lighter shade of black.  Ford crept slowly down the stairs and into the elevator through the deafening silence.  Everything slowly grew lighter the lower he got, until he felt the doors slide open under his palm and he stepped into a murky darkness filled with vague shifting shapes.  Ford ran his hand along the wall and felt a door.  He grabbed the knob and gave it a twist.

The door was locked.  So was the one next to it. Every door Ford found was worryingly shut tight as a drum.  With a small ‘oof’ Ford bumped into the console.  He ran his hands over it and felt yet another locked door set into it instead of the Portal controls.  Ford moved over to the end of the console, feeling for the door he had gone through before.  The small knob gave under Fords hand, and light spilled out, biting at his eyes.

He crawled through the door and back into the memory of Glass Shard Beach.  The crater Bill had made was gone, and the sun had been replaced by a night sky with a full moon cutting through sparse cloud cover.  Twelve year old Stanley sat on his swing seat, feet dug into the sand and head hanging low.

Ford walked over to his side of the swings, leaning around the bar.  Stanley’s face was buried in his hands and his elbows were resting on his knees.  “Is this swing taken?”  Ford attempted a lighthearted quip.

Stanley jumped to his feet, spinning to face his brother.  “Ford!”  He launched himself across the beach, burying his face in Fords chest and wrapping his arms tightly around his waist, almost knocking him to the ground.  “Are ya okay?  What happened?  Ya disappeared, and then I landed back here, and I didn’t know what ta do, and-”

“Stanley, Stanley, it’s alright!  I’m fine.”  Ford returned his brothers hug, taken aback by his panicked concern.  “I’m more concerned about you!  Are you alright?”

Stanley looked up at his brother, and Ford had to bite back a gasp.  The crack on Stanley’s head looked worse than Ford remembered, covering most of his brother’s forehead and completely surrounding his right eye, branching and jagged like a lightning bolt.  The iris of his eye was a piercing blue, contrasting sharply with the deep brown of his left eye.

“Yeah, m’fine.”  Stanley hesitated before answering.

Ford frowned.  “Stanley, we both know you’re lying.”

“If ya already knew the answer, why’d ya ask?”

“I- don’t know.”  Ford reluctantly pulled out of the hug and knelt in front of his brother.  “Stanley, you’ve been injured.  Can I-” He tried to push Stanley’s hair back to get a better look, but his brother ducked away, running his fingers through his bangs and pulling them low over his forehead.  Ford gave a small scowl. “Stan, please.”

“Nope.”  Stanley took a step back.

“You’re _hurt_ Stanley!  Let me help you!”

“How?”  Stanley sat back down on his swing.  “It doesn’t go away Poindexter, trust me, I’ve tried.”  He kicked off, swinging slightly.  “All yer gonna do is get worked up an’ start spoutin’ science stuff that I’ll never understand, an’ probably give yerself a heart attack ‘r somethin’.”

After a slight hesitation Ford took a seat in his swing.  “I…suppose you have a point.”

“What, ah, what’r ya doin’ back here in my dumb ol’ head?”  Stanley kept his eyes down.  “Is that triangle guy lookin’ fer round two?”

“No! No, Bill is never going to be a problem for you Stanley, ever again.”

Stanley blinked at Fords sudden intensity.  “Oh.  Well, why’r ya back?”

“I-” _I was a fool, I put you in danger, I had to make sure Bill was really gone, I have to try and fix you, I need to make up for everything, I need you to wake up soon, I need my brother back_ “-came to apologize.”

“Apologize?  You ain’t the one who should be apologizin’ fer anythin’.”  Stanley glanced sideways at Ford.  “I’m th’ one who screwed everythin’ up fer ya.”

“That’s not necessarily true Stanley.”  Ford sighed.  “I’m just as guilty as you for everything that went wrong between us.  I could have talked to Dad, kept you from getting thrown out all those years ago.  Then we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Or Dad would’a just thrown you out too.”

“Maybe, but I could’ve done _something_ to help you, instead of just feeling sorry for myself and holding a grudge for so many years.”  Ford rubbed his brow.

Stanley sighed, and Ford felt a shift in the memory.  He glanced over at his brother and saw not a twelve year old, but a baby faced teenager.  The jagged crack was still arching across his face, and with his hair slicked back Ford could see hairline fractures branching off of the larger ones.  _‘Were those there before?’_

“I don’t blame ya Sixer.  Ya don’t hafta try ta feel sorry fer me.”  Stanley’s gaze darted in Ford’s direction before he started to stare intensely at his shoes.  “I’d hate me too if I were you.”

Ford jolted at the words.  “… _hate_ you?”  He parroted numbly.  “Stanley, what?”

“I never wanted to screw things up fer you so badly Ford, I swear.”  Stanley continued, not hearing his brother.  “I was just scared and so _stupid,_ not that that’s anything new.  And that sure as hell isn’t an excuse for me screwing your whole life over.  Twice.”  There was another shift in the memory, and in a blink Stanley had become a sallow faced man with a stringy mullet and a filthy red jacket with a singed hole on the shoulder.  “I kept ya out of yer dream school, and I wasn’t ever able ta make it up to you, not even after ten years.  And then, when ya gave me a chance to _finally_ do somethin’ right in my life, I just- I was _stupid_ an’ I thought I _killed_ my own brother an’ I’m such an _idiot_ that it took me thirty years ta finally bring ya back home.  Half of our lives you were runnin’ around different dimensions trying not ta die because of _me!”_ Stanley buried his face in his hands.  “Some brother I turned out to be, huh?  Dad was right about me, I am just a screw up.”

“Stanley…”  Ford reached out and set a hand on his brothers shoulder, carefully avoiding the hole that was seared through it.  “Dad wasn’t right about you, at all.  And I don’t hate you.  I may have fooled myself into thinking that for far too long, but I’ve never hated you.  If anything, I wouldn’t be surprised if _you_ hated _me_.”

Stanley sat up and leveled an incredulous stare at his brother.  “What’re you going on about?”  There was an outraged, almost angry edge to his words.

Ford gave a heavy sigh.  “ _My_ life wasn’t ruined that night, all those years ago.  _Yours_ was.  Stanley, while you were fighting to survive out on the streets, my biggest worries were college finals, and getting into the classes I wanted!  You could have _died_ out there Stan, and I wouldn’t even have known.”

“Sixer, ten years on the streets is _peanuts_ compared ta thirty spent runnin’ from aliens, or robots, or-or whatever awful things there were out there!”

“But _I_ wasn’t a child who was thrown out on his ear.  And anyways, look at what you were able to do given the opportunity.  You started a successful business from nothing, the town loves you, the _kids_ absolutely adore you, you’ve made a whole life for-”

Stanley gave a startled gasp and grabbed Ford’s wrist tightly.  “ _The kids._ Stanford, what happened ta Dipper an’ Mable?”  Ford barely saw that his brother now matched him in age, his attention caught by the raw terror on Stanley’s face.  “Are they hurt?  Did I get ta them in time?  What happened?”

“They’re fine Stanley!”  Ford clapped his free hand over his brothers, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.  “You saved them Stan, Dipper and Mabel are all right!”

Ford watched his brother sag in relief, turning away from him and resting his face in his hands.  “Thank Moses.”  His voice trembled; Ford could hear the sobs he was holding back.

His smile faded slightly.  “They’re very worried about you though.  Your handyman, Soos, has been taking care of them while I’m staying in the hospital with you.  And Wendy has been quite helpful as well.”

“Wait, you’ve been stayin’ with me?”  Stanley looked over at Ford, puzzled.

“Of course I have.”  Ford scowled slightly.  “You’re my brother, why wouldn’t I be?”  _You know exactly why he doesn’t think you care._ A little voice echoed in Ford’s mind.  He pushed it away.

Stanley gapped for a moment before turning away from his brother.  “I just- thought you’d have better things ta do with yer time.  I can bounce back from…whatever this is.”  He waved his hand in through air.  “Ya don’t have ta worry about me.”

It took Ford a moment to find his voice before he exploded, springing to his feet and standing directly in front of his twin. “You’re in a _coma_ Stanley!  Your body is lying in a hospital bed on _life support_ , your mind has been ravaged by a literal demon, and you are breaking apart in front of me!”  He angrily gestured at the glowing crack that was arched across his brothers head, and Ford couldn’t tell if he was imagining that it had grown or not.  He started to pace, drawing an agitated line in the sand.  “Why are you brushing this off?  You could be _dying_ for all we know Stanley, and I have _no idea_ how to help you!”  Ford pressed a hand to his forehead, biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood.

A hand was gently placed on Ford shoulder, turning him around to face his brother.  His face was crinkled in a worried frown.  “Hey, c’mon bro, calm down.  Things are gonna turn out fine, you’ll see-”

“How are you so _calm?!_ ”  He grabbed the front of Stanley’s suit, shaking him slightly.  “You could die Stanley!  Do you even care?”  Ford’s voice broke.

Stanley hesitated, the wound on his head dimming briefly for a moment, and something in Ford snapped.  He yanked his brother close to him and held him in a tight hug, and a small sob broke out of him.  “Damn it Stanley.”  Ford buried his face in his brothers suit, clinging as tightly to him as he could.  After a moment, he felt Stanley return his embrace, his fingers curling into his sweater.  The feel of salt water soaked Ford’s knees as they sunk down onto the beach together.

“I don’t want to lose you Stanley.”  Ford tried to blink back the tears growing in his eyes.

“Don’ see why.”  Stanley’s voice warbled “All I’ve ever been is trouble."

“You’re my _brother,_ Stanley.  And, for the record, I’m just as much trouble as you are.”

Stanley scoffed.  “Since when?”

“When was the last time _you_ blew up the lab back at Glass Shard Beach High?”

The brothers laughed, and reluctantly broke the hug apart.  They sat close to each other on the dark beach.  Ford looked up and could make out a few stars in the sky.  “Hey, Stan?  Do you remember when we would sneak out here to the beach on the nights when Dad was…irritated?  I would start pointing out the different constellations, and then you’d start coming up with those _ridiculous_ names and stories?”

Stan barked out a laugh.  “Yeah!  Like I-gotta-go-pee-a, the bathroom queen!”

“It’s _Cassiopeia_ Stanley.”  Ford groaned, but he couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“Yeah, yeah.”  Stanley laughed too.  They chatted for a little bit, reminiscing and just enjoying each others company.  It was the most relaxed Ford had felt in a long while.

Slowly, the sun started to rise over the ocean.  After the memory had lightened to mid-day, there was the sound of footsteps running along the beach.  Together, the brothers watched as two young boys, around twelve years old, with tangled mops of brown curls bouncing around as they ran across the beach.  And soon, the cries of ‘Kings of New Jersey’ echoed out as they dragged a busted old sailboat out of a cave.

“Man, I missed this, Sixer.”  Stanley gave a contented sigh, leaning against Ford.  “No fighting, no glaring at each other when the kids aren’t looking, just…this.”

“I have too, Stan.  I really have.” Ford agreed.  “I promise, as soon as we’re back out in the real world, things won’t be like that.  Ever again.  No more pointless fighting, none of that.  I promise, we are going to be brothers again.”

Stanley was silent, and Ford worried that he had said something wrong for a moment, before his brother crashed into him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders in a tight hug.  Ford felt Stanley’s shoulders shake slightly, and felt tears start to soak into his sweater, but when he looked over he saw that Stanley was smiling.  He felt tears prickling his eyes as he returned the hug, laughing a little as he and Stanley nearly tipped over onto the sand.

“See ya on the outside Sixer.”  Ford heard Stanley say, before everything faded out and he started awake in the hospital room again.  He looked over at Stanley and shot up out of his chair when he saw that Stanley’s eyes were open.  His right eye had turned blue, but other than that they were normal, and more than that they were  _aware,_ glancing around at Ford and the hospital room in slight confusion.

Ford darted out and called for a doctor.  He hovered anxiously by as the doctor called in a nurse.  They spent a few minutes checking Stanley over, before they started removing the breathing tube.

He waited until the doctors had finished and left before he threw himself at Stanley and clung tightly to him.  “Stanley, thank Moses you’re awake!”  Ford felt himself start to tear up, but then he felt his brother start to push him away gently.  “Oh!  Your injuries! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” he pulled back, hands held out in apology.  But, when he caught sight of the confused look on his brothers face, he froze.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Stanley started apologetically, his voice even more hoarse and raspy then normal.  “But, I don’t really know who you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! Finally getting this posted here! This is my first fic, and I'm still really proud of it! More to come!


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